First Drop of Blood
by lildark7
Summary: Vandal Cleaver hated being tricked, manipulated. When someone tricks you into drinking their blood, for whatever reason, you should know you're making a mistake. He had made the worst mistake of his life. And he now had an eternity to regret it.
1. Notes

Notes:

Vampire Masquerade Bloodlines AU for Vandal's origin story on how he became Therese's ghoul. I bent the timeline of the game a bit for this.

Also, the song Monster by Starset is PERFECT for Vandal.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Sexual content, prostitution, graphic violence, abuse, blood, needles, torture, murder, suicide, self harm, mental health issues.  
The before mentioned content will be included in either explicit detail or will be mentioned in the story as it goes on. If you are easily triggered or have problems reading about these things, please do not read this story. The content warnings are there for a reason.


	2. Of Secret Thoughts and Unexpected Events

Chapter 1: Of Secret Thoughts and Unexpected Events

Vandal Cleaver was the manager of the blood bank at the Santa Monica clinic. He had worked there for about a year now.

His days were always the same. They were boring and uneventful. He had made it a habit to watch the people who came in to donate. He had made a game of it. Every day he would pick one of the donors and analyze their way of speaking, their facial expressions, their mannerisms and then try to imitate them, using some of the same words they had used, some of their gestures, and he had noticed whenever he did so, his what he had started to call, guinea pig, would feel more at home, more at ease in his presence. It had always worked so far even with the most nervous of donors. He had learned how to manipulate them to make his work easier.

He often caught himself daydreaming during his shifts about what it would be like to use his newfound skill to manipulate someone in a different way. To make someone trust him just to then turn that trust against them and stab them in the back. Literally.

He had always wondered what it would be like to take a person's life. To kill someone. He had thought about it so often that he had lost count. He was curious. He was sure that someone else out there must have had the same thought before. That he wasn't alone with his sick curiosity.

He did not just think about killing someone. No. He also thought about the reverse. What it would feel like to be killed. For that thinking about it did the job. For the first thing however his imagination wasn't enough and his thirst for the real thing would never be sated. He would never be doing it. Not because he didn't want to. Not because he thought he couldn't go through with it in the end. The reason was as simple as that he had no opportunities to act on it. His work hours didn't leave him time to study someone and plan the whole thing. He knew that if he did it on a whim he would be caught and he did not want that. It wasn't worth the trouble. If he ever got to do it he wanted it to be clean and calculated. Planned out and risk free. This would be a one time event anyway. Something that he could then cross off his list of things he wanted to know about and try himself. To take one of the insignificant extra's, a side character in his life who meant nothing to him and make them into the lead in his own story. Nobody would notice. For everyone else, life would go on. The person who was dead wouldn't be able to care. Their relatives would mourn the loss of course, but hey, it was just as likely that the person he'd killed would have been hit by a car the next day. So he wasn't concerned about that.

Vandal's curiosity list had had quite a few strange things on it already. Things that had included both, really stupid stuff, like what would happen if you put batteries in the microwave, to extremer stuff, like how much it would hurt if he cut the length of his own arm with a kitchen knife. He had tried both. Turned out the batteries caught fire and then blew up, making his microwave unusable. The cut into his arm with the knife had hurt quite a bit and bled a lot. It had healed and left a scar in the end. A reminder not to do it again. After he had done it he had thought about people who did this as a coping mechanism for mental pain or other issues. He had concluded that it was effective, the pain did take your mind off of everything else, if only temporary. But it was a rather horrible way to deal with things. He respected the people who worked with patients suffering from mental disorders. The staff from the third floor of the clinic had their work cut out for them. Their mental ward was one of the largest in Santa Monica. Which had brought him to think again, that he knew that he himself was affected by a few minor things as well. At least a few behavioral issues. Maybe everyone was in some way the tiniest bit cracked.

He wasn't quite sure about that though.

Vandal had two other people work with him downstairs. One of them was Phil. A lean, tall guy with blond hair and amber eyes, and Bill a black haired dude with Japanese ancestry on his father's side. When Bill had first introduced himself, Vandal had remarked that he had expected something quite different. At least Bill's last name was actually Japanese. It was far less ridiculous than Phil's as well. Vandal was sure that Phil had not had a lot of fun in high school or even college. Flabottomus was a name that was easily twisted and made fun of. And it did show in Phil's behavior too. He was shy, nervous and didn't really talk much. Bill on the other hand, was very talkative to the point of getting on Vandal's nerves. Bill was one of the popular guys. Sometimes he enjoyed their company, sometimes he wished he worked all alone, it really depended on his mood. Today was one of those days where all he wanted was for them to shut the hell up and disappear off the face of the earth, so he could be undisturbed in his own head. Vandal was quick to lose his temper. Extremely quick. Pissing him off was easy and it was a mistake most people didn't make twice. If someone didn't heed his verbal warning when he got angry, his hand usually slipped, sometimes both of them. It wasn't uncontrolled though. He had full control over it. It was quicker than holding a long argument. Someone with a hand around their throat would be forced to shut up or stop whatever they were doing if they hadn't taken his warning serious.

He had thought about talking to at least Phil about his strange curiosity of killing someone. He was quite certain, that Phil himself had at least thought about hurting people before. Something in the way he carried himself had suggested it. There was something off about him from time to time. Vandal had recognized it even though it was a different kind of off than he had in himself to a degree. But he knew better than to speak up about it. No one ever talked about stuff like this. Even though to him, it seemed quite normal. It was in a human's nature to harm or kill others to survive, if needed. It was an instinct embedded in everyone. A now rendered almost useless instinct, but still. It was there and he found it only natural to be curious about.

The staff from upstairs had sent Phil down to work with Vandal about two months ago. Phil had not wanted to. He'd been forced, pushed around basically.

Vandal felt a hand slap down on his shoulder and stay there, followed by Bill's voice, asking him, "Yo, Vandal! How was your escort?"

He had been sitting in the break room and had about 5 minutes left until he needed to get back to the front.

He turned to Bill, rising from his seat as he did so and gave him a rather cold look with his icy blue eyes. It made Bill remove his hand from his shoulder.

"Ah, sorry," Bill said, still quite relaxed. "I remember you hate that."

Vandal did hate being touched for no reason. He hated people invading his personal space unintentionally. He wasn't deaf, he didn't need to be touched for Bill to get his attention. He knew Bill was just trying to be friendly, but things like this set him off.

"She was fine," Vandal answered, his voice as cold as the look he'd given him. "She only does it for the money. Said it's to help pay rent. So, I just might start doing this on a regular basis. Helps me, helps her, in that order. Her rates are quite affordable, if you get my hint."

"Nice," Bill grinned. "Good on you!"

Hannah Glazer was the girl he'd had over at his place last night. He had talked to her for longer than he had expected. Hannah was a nice girl. She had talked about some of her other customers without naming them and he had found out that she disliked most of them. He had been friendly, had told her a bit about himself, he had asked her a few personal questions and wanted to know about her work and her schedules, what she liked and was willing or unwilling to do and Hannah had appreciated it. She had been so appreciative that she had turned down the tip he had wanted to give her. She had outright handed it back to him with a smile on her face and told him she hoped he'd call again soon. That was a testament to how fucked up the rest of her customers were. If she 'wanted' him to call again. And she hadn't been lying either. He would have been able to tell if she had been. He would have seen it in her eyes.

He had learned this by making a game of it as well. Every day at the blood bank. He had gotten so good at it that he now didn't even have to think about it anymore. It was easy. All you had to check for, was if the person was left or right handed, then check the direction of their eyes when they were trying to recall something. If the answer to his question was more complex he also relied on pupil dilation. When people lied, their pupils widened almost the same way they did when they were in fear.

He liked calling out liars. The shock on their faces when they realized he could tell, that he 'knew' for a fact, was satisfying. The best one so far had been when he had called out Malcolm about sleeping with Paige, the medical student at the clinic and cheating on his wife. His silence had been worth quite the sum to Malcolm.

If he thought about it some more, the entire clinic's staff was kind of shady. Medicine disappeared without a trace, doctors abused their privileges, and patients in critical conditions were just left alone in a room unattended. He had seen them cart off a redhead for treatment riddled with bullets and ruptured organs, just to then have her 'wait' for a doctor to get to the hospital first. She had disappeared from her room after about 20 minutes and nobody had looked into it. She was probably dead by now. In her state, she couldn't have made it far.

Vandal ignored Bill's reply and started heading for the reception. As suspected, Bill didn't follow him. He had sensed that Vandal wasn't in the mood to talk more than he had today.

He opened the door to the booth and found it empty. Phil was supposed to be in here. Where the hell was he?

Vandal let out a frustrated growl. Phil was very forgetful. He had probably not remembered for the hundredth time that he had to call for either Bill or him if he abandoned his post, no matter for how long.

If the owner of the place found out she'd flip. Not that she ever came down here during the day. She only ever came in after sundown, if she came at all. He'd only ever seen her once and that was only because he had been upstairs when she'd been by to visit. He had not paid her much attention. She'd been talking to one of the doctors at that time. He would recognize her if he saw her again, though. He was quite sure of that. He rarely forgot a face.

He entered and shut the door behind him, not bothering to use the handle to let it close quietly. When Phil came back he'd once again have to give a sternly worded lecture. Sometimes he felt like he was dealing with a bunch of kids down here. Vandal disliked most people, and met them with a rather cool and distant attitude. He could be genuinely nice if he wanted, like he had been with Hannah, but it was rather rare. If he didn't need anything in return or wanted something specific from them, he didn't really bother.

Bill was now on his 30 minutes break and he and Phil had to take donations alone for that duration. If anyone came in.

He checked the clock. It was 6 PM, which meant that he had two hours until his shift ended. He usually closed up the blood bank for the night on his own when he had the late shift. The last two hours of work were always the worst. With only inventory left to check he had nothing else to do but sit there, either taking calls or answering mail. Time came to a crawl during it.

Footsteps from behind him told Vandal that Phil had come back.

"I would like you to explain why I found the reception 'empty' when I got here," Vandal spoke, his voice very quiet. He didn't turn to Phil just yet. He would wait out his answer before he did so. It would make Phil a lot more nervous that way.

Phil's voice was equally quiet, but unlike Vandal's it was filled with unease as he replied, "I was just in the break room and wanted to get you, but you'd already left, so I came straight back here."

His answer was unsatisfactory. Vandal slowly turned and made sure his gaze was piercing as he looked up at Phil, who stood as far away from him as possible in the small space. "How often do I have to remind you that you're supposed to 'call' for me instead of just leaving? We all have 'working ears', Phil. I would have heard you!" He stepped towards him. "I am starting to get tired of having to repeat myself," he said, lowering his voice into a sharp warning.

Phil's eyes flicked to the floor. "Sorry Vandal, it won't happen again," he spoke meekly.

Vandal closed the distance between them until he stood right in front of Phil, if he moved just a bit closer he would be invading his personal space and he was going to because he wanted him to feel extremely uncomfortable. Phil was already against the wall unable to withdraw.

"What I want you to do, right now," Vandal told him. "Is write a note and tape it to the door, so that every time you are reminded." He smiled as he took another step and saw Phil tense. "Is that understood?" he asked snidely.

Phil nodded. Now Vandal was pissed off for real. How he abhorred it when people didn't answer him 'properly'. The fact Phil was still staring at his own shoes didn't help either.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" Vandal hissed and Phil's head shot up. He repeated, "Is that understood?"

"Yes," Phil answered, the look in his eyes defensive with a hint of disquiet.

Vandal turned away from him and went over to the computer. "Good, then get to it."

He ignored Phil as he started going through the emails. A minute later Phil spoke again, "I'm done. I'll check inventory, if that's ok."

He glanced at him. "All right. I'll let you know if someone's in to donate."

"Ok."

The door closed behind Phil and Vandal took a look at the note he had written. The entire thing was in caps and read:

DO NOT LEAVE RECEPTION UNATTENDED! CALL FOR SOMEONE TO TAKE OVER BEFORE LEAVING!

"If that doesn't help, then I don't know what will," Vandal growled to himself. "No wonder they didn't want him upstairs."

He knew that Phil would swing by the break room to talk to Bill. He didn't care, the longer he had quiet the better. Answering mail would take a while anyway. People emailing them wanted to know the stupidest things. Most of the time, they asked about the donation process, which was explained on the clinic's website. All they had to do was look it up. So ninety percent of the mail he sent out was just answering unnecessary questions because the majority of people seemed to be either too lazy or too stupid to find the answers to them themselves.

He went through them with an increasingly worse mood. They never seemed to stop. As soon as he had replied to one, another came in some time later. It was an endless cycle. If the phone rang now, he knew he'd blow up.

There was a knock on the donation window and Vandal turned and walked over.

"Paige," Vandal addressed her in a flat tone. "What do you need?"

The short haired, blond woman smiled at him and answered in her quite unpleasant voice, "Hey, I need a bag of O Rhesus negative. We got someone needing a transfusion." Paige didn't look like she was in a hurry. So whoever needed that, was probably not dying at the moment. "Slow day?" she wanted to know from him.

Yeah, they were definitely not on their deathbed, if Paige had time to talk.

"Jup," Vandal replied, disinterested. "I'll get Phil to bring it, hang on." He walked to the door and called, "Phil! I need you to bring me a bag of O Rhesus negative! Be quick, Paige doesn't have all evening!"

"I'm coming!" Phil called back and Vandal heard his footsteps hurry through the hallways.

He turned back to Paige, "Won't take a minute." He sat down in front of the computer again. "I'll keep working on this travesty here, if you don't mind."

Paige nodded and said, "Thank you, Vandal." And she kept talking. Paige always talked. She never shut up. Vandal had learned to ignore her. Paige didn't need replies anyway. She was just talking to fill silence. "You rarely get news from upstairs here. We got twice as many patients in for treatment than usual. It's almost too much to handle. I'm so glad I got to go down here for a minute. It's nice and quiet. Malcolm's patient got discharged after a successful treatment today. The staff is celebrating that after work at the bar downtown. You guys are all invited too."

Vandal gave her a half smile, "Well, it's quiet NOW. It wasn't so earlier. I'll let Phil and Bill know about the celebration, but I doubt any of us are coming."

"A pity. You should get out more," Paige said.

Yeah, right. As if any of the staff from upstairs would want them to come. Bill yeah, he probably wouldn't have any problems fitting in, but Phil and him, there was no way either of them would get along with any of the morons from upstairs.

"I'm quite comfortable with how things are," Vandal answered in a chilly tone.

He glanced at Paige who shrugged. Her smile had wavered for a second. "Well, you do you. I'll have a good time later."

"I am sure you will," Vandal smirked. With Malcolm, he added in his head.

Phil brought her the blood bag and she thanked him. He declined the invitation to join the staff after work, just as expected. When Paige was out of earshot and the door upstairs had fallen shut again, he turned to Vandal and said, "I can't stand that bitch."

Vandal laughed. "Just her? I hate all of them."

"The rest of them is all right," Phil grumbled. "But Paige is seriously messed up."

Those were the moments when Phil changed. Vandal didn't know why Phil hated Paige so much, but he did and his anger showed. It was not nearly as bad as when he himself got furious, but Vandal saw it even if Phil was trying to hide it and mask it as just a feeling of 'dislike'.

"Well," Vandal grinned. "I'm more than happy that she's gone again. She wasn't shutting up. You gonna ask Bill on your way back in?"

"Yeah," Phil answered and headed for the door again.

The next emails Vandal saw weren't any better than the ones he'd already replied to. More stupid questions and some spam that hadn't been filtered. For fun, he opened one of the spam mails that was titled, 'Need a Kick or Money? Become a Blood Doll!'.

He started reading through it, and the entire thing was ridiculous.

'There are hundreds of people out there addicted to drugs. Why not have a different form of addiction? Have you ever felt the euphoria of letting someone else drink your own blood, directly from your veins? We're telling you, it's BETTER than any drug. Become a Blood Doll for the nights in your area. We pay up front. For more information please call 1-800-MYBLOOD.'

This was so stupid that he was tempted to call the number in the email. Just to fuck with them and have a laugh. He pulled out his cellphone. He wasn't going to call from the landline, that'd be way too risky. He didn't expect anyone to actually pick up, if it even connected in the first place. He dialed and waited for a moment. It was connecting. It didn't even take 10 seconds for someone at the other end to pick up.

It was a woman with a quite impressive voice. "You've reached the Blood Doll service line. My name is Isabella. How can I help you?"

Vandal was taken aback. He suddenly had the feeling that this was actually a thing. And certainly not quite legal either. "Good evening, Isabella. I just had a few questions. I had your email in my inbox."

"Of course, what would you like to know?"

"First, how much does this pay, and second how does it work?" Vandal asked.

Isabella explained, "It's pretty simple. All you have to do is tell us the nearest club in your area and when you'll be there. Then we'll set you up with one of our workers. He or she, depending on your preference, will pay you 50 bucks up front and all you have to do is let them bite your neck hard enough to draw some blood and drink it. Then they'll be on their way again."

"So they're basically playing vampires? That doesn't sound like an euphoric experience to me," Vandal replied coolly. "It sounds quite like I will have a serious infection after, and be using the money to visit the doctor and get antibiotics."

"I can assure you, there will be no need to visit a doctor after. All our employees are regularly checked and they will disinfect everything after they're done," Isabella reassured him. "If you want to try it, and are doubting our legitimacy, I can double the amount we pay you for the first time."

"Well, if that's the case. I'm in. The nearest club would be The Asylum in Santa Monica. I'll be there at about 8:45 PM tonight and I'd like one of your female workers to come. What else do you need to know?" Vandal asked. He had made up his mind. A hundred bucks for a thing like this was just too good. He wondered who the hell came up with stuff like that. This must be some weird Goth subculture type of thing.

"Wonderful. All we need is a description of you," Isabella spoke happily. "We have a code phrase. When someone asks you, 'Which numbers have been removed from the solar system?' you'll need to answer, '134340'. And that's all we need."

Vandal told her what he looked like and then said, "I guess you're just the girl on the phone and haven't tried this yourself?"

Isabella actually laughed, "No, I have tried it. Had to in order to work here. You won't be disappointed. It's quite a good way to make money."

"Well, I'll see later, won't I? Have a nice evening, Isabella," Vandal spoke.

"You too. Bye." Isabella hung up.

Vandal shook his head and typed the code phrase into a note on his phone. He didn't quite know why, but he knew for a fact that someone would show up at the club for real at the time he had given Isabella. He was cautious however. He'd not take any money or even his wallet or ID, so that nothing could be stolen. He'd take his keys, that was it.

He had no problems with enduring a bit of pain, so he wasn't too worried about the whole thing. It was worth the 100 dollars. If this was indeed a scam though and they didn't have the money, the scammer who'd shown up would regret it.

He deleted the rest of the spam mails.

Bill knocked on the door and entered. "Phil said the guys upstairs are celebrating. I might just go and have a drink with them. I got nothing to do tonight and I'm quite bored," he said.

Vandal checked the clock. Bill's break was indeed over and he would probably stick around in the booth with him for the rest of the shift.

"Well, you do that. I can't be bothered to go," Vandal spoke, irritated.

"I know. Fred and Danny are actually pretty fun to hang out with," Bill let him know. He kept talking, but Vandal tuned out. Bill's voice reduced to background noise in his head.

He had finished the emails and Bill was still talking. Phil had returned as well and informed him that he had completed inventory and given him the list to type into the computer. He had barely started and was already getting fed up with it. Their talking didn't help him concentrate. Usually he could drown them out enough, but this evening somehow he couldn't, not both of them.

His head snapped to them and he spoke, quite forcefully, "Okay. If you're just talking anyway, why don't you go back to the break room? I'd like to have some quiet."

"All right, Vandal." Bill wasn't fazed. He had adapted to Vandal's outbursts quite well. "Want me to bring you some coffee?"

"No." The single words was just a growl.

Bill shrugged. "If you change your mind, give me a shout."

Vandal ignored him and when the door finally shut behind them, he closed his eyes for a moment and massaged his temples. He was getting a headache. He grabbed the bottle of water on the desk and drank. If that didn't help he'd have to resort to taking a painkiller. He usually only took one when he absolutely couldn't take it anymore.

Time crawled on as he worked on the list. Phil and Bill didn't bother him again until a few minutes before the shift ended. And Vandal told them to go home. He himself closed the blood bank, went to change back into his street clothes and half an hour later he was out the door as well.

He went straight to the Asylum. He sat down at the bar and waited. He was curious to see what kind of woman would show up.

The bartender went up to him and asked, "What can I get you?"

He was a rather heavy individual. Bald and with a ton of tattoos.

Vandal replied, "Nothing. I'm just waiting for someone."

"You sure? I make a mean Bloody Mary."

Vandal smiled coldly at him, "I work at the blood bank. Had a Mary in today and she was bloody when I was done with her. Stupid thing ripped the tube out from the bag in her hysteria. So I think I've had enough of Bloody Mary for tonight."

The bartender stared at him. "God, why do I always get the weird ones? Well, let me know if you need anything." He turned away and quickly left him alone.

Vandal's smile turned into a smirk. He didn't drink. The thought of drinking disgusted him. He had seen what it did to people and he couldn't stand it. He looked around the club to see what kind of clubbers were there this early at night. Turned out quite a few. Most of them were dancing. One of the women stood out though. She wore a white blouse, a school girl looking mini skirt and also white knee socks. Her hair was put into pigtails. It looked ridiculous. She seemed to be having a good time though. She was talking to a small group of women, occasionally giggling.

"Excuse me, do you know which numbers have been removed from the solar system?"

Vandal turned at the sound of the soft voice. He found himself looking at a very young woman and she looked NOTHING like he had expected. She was a bit smaller than him. Her short, light brown hair was styled and brought out her green eyes. Her lips were full and her face very soft. She looked fragile. She was cute. This girl wasn't seriously gonna bite him? This didn't fit. Something was off here.

"134340," he replied and the woman gave him a smile.

"I can see I'm not really what you expected, I guess?" she asked, friendly. "What's your name?"

"You are correct," Vandal told her in a neutral tone. "I'm Vandal. You?"

"Mariella," she let him know. "Looks can be quite deceiving. Let's step away from the bar a bit, ok? Just over near the elevator should be fine."

Vandal followed her silently. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something about this woman was strange. It almost pissed him off that he didn't know what it was. Mariella told him to sit down on the stairs for a moment. She pulled out 5 twenty dollar bills and handed them to him with another smile. "There you go. Isabella said you were suspicious. Your description was lacking. You're not too hard on the eyes. I think guys with longer hair are really attractive. And I gotta say, you look 'very healthy'."

Vandal took the money, checking each bill. He put them into the back pocket of his jeans. Something was wrong with this girl. She was looking at him as if he was literal 'food'. "You're definitely not what I expected to show up here when I made the decision to do this," he told her. "So far so good. You paid, have fun."

Mariella smiled wider, it was not quite wide enough to show teeth. "You'll not be disappointed. I'm very good at it." She moved closer to him and for a moment he was asking himself why he was doing stuff like this for money. He knew why though. His sick curious bent had obligated him to do it. He would probably refrain from ever reading spam mail again.

"One last question before I bite," Mariella grinned. "You want to talk after? Or do you just want me to leave?"

Vandal hated himself for a split second. "I want to talk after."

Mariella looked pleased. "All right, pretty boy."

She leaned in and Vandal felt her hand on the back of his neck. It was cold. Her circulation must be really bad. Her lips were just as cool as they touched his neck. He braced himself for the pain. He felt two sharp fangs drive into his neck, breaking his skin and the blood running out of him. The pain had been so minor and it was overshadowed by a rush of feelings. As soon as her lips had touched his skin he had felt ecstatic. He felt 'good'. This kind of good was satisfying, in a different way than for instance after having sex. This was the same euphoria you felt when you accomplished something you really wanted and had worked for. It wasn't just the satisfaction of base instincts being fulfilled. There was more to this.

He was still in a daze but he felt her draw back slightly and something cold and wet run over where she had bitten him.

It took him a few moments to snap out of it. Mariella was still there, looking at him curiously. Vandal knew immediately that this was definitely not normal. His reaction to the entire thing should NOT have been like this. Had they used some kind of drug or stimulant to coat their lips and teeth? If so he didn't know what kind that would have been. Also two of her teeth had been sharpened to points. He felt strange. He had joked when he had said they were playing vampires. Now he was baffled. They really were. And this was quite the extent they had gone through to put on a show.

"Interesting," Mariella spoke with a raised eyebrow. "I never had the pleasure to get to talk after. You're the first person who agreed. You snapped out of it quick."

"And here I thought I was the only person to ever agree to this," Vandal smirked. "Whoever came up with the entire thing to put on such a show is quite eccentric. This was not too bad. I assume the drugs you're using for this are a trade secret? I hope I don't need to have my blood tested now. I can give myself a blood transfusion if I need it."

Mariella stared at him. "You're not the first. There is an entire network of people who do this for free even. And don't worry about getting a blood transfusion. This is safe. A blood test would come back negative. There's nothing in your system that could harm you," she reassured him. "Where do you work? If you don't mind me asking."

He wasn't gonna tell her. It seemed like a shit idea to him for some reason, he couldn't quite explain. So he only said, "Isn't important. I learned it at medical school, if you were wondering about that."

Mariella nodded. Vandal had noticed that she hadn't commented on either the fact that he had said it was eccentric or the fact that they were using drugs for this. "Spend that money on something nice, Vandal. Think you'll do it again?"

Vandal grinned at her and said, "I will certainly spend it wisely. And I don't think I'll be doing this again, it did feel nice, but I can see how this could become addicting, and I'm not someone who 'likes' that."

Mariella chuckled. "Well then, it was nice meeting you. Don't go blabbing about this to anyone, though." Her tone changed to a warning and Vandal knew she was serious about it. "Or there will be consequences. Wouldn't want you to vanish one of those nights. My boss is connected and people who talk too much, do disappear quite 'frequently'. Understood?"

Vandal looked into her eyes and gave her a hard stare. She didn't even look unsettled and the fact that she wasn't made him all the more sure that her threat was valid. That she was giving him really good advice by telling him to keep his mouth shut about it. "I won't tell a soul," he said.

Mariella smiled. She looked satisfied. "Very well. Goodbye, Vandal."

"Bye, Mariella," Vandal answered curtly, not even bothering to stand up from the stairs.

Mariella grinned, turned and left without another word.

Vandal put a finger to his neck and to his amazement. There were no marks on him. He couldn't feel any. It didn't hurt and there was nothing that indicated that he had been bitten in the first place. It seemed to have completely healed.

"Shit," he breathed. "What the hell?" He stood up and went to the club's bathroom to have a look. Maybe he just didn't feel it because the bite marks were too small?

He was thankful that the restroom was empty. He stood in front of the mirror and to his utter astonishment, there were really no marks on him. It was as if the entire thing had never happened. For a split second he thought that, maybe, just maybe, this hadn't been an act. But that would be insane. He didn't believe in mythical creatures. But the fact that there were no marks on him made him seriously question what the hell had happened and how this was possible. He had no explanation for it. He let out a frustrated sigh and told himself to forget about it. He had the money, he would stop thinking now.

He went back out and made his way to the blood bank again to pick up his things. The only staff now present at the clinic would be Dr. Thornton, the guy who constantly did malpractice, Dr. Roberts who the redhead had to wait for to arrive when she had needed treatment and someone who worked the reception part time when no one else was available. He went through the front door, just to see who the part time receptionist was. Turned out she was another woman, quite plain looking, wearing a blue shirt with flowers on it. There were quite a few people waiting in the front. An older woman and two guys who looked like they had just been in a fight, were the ones who caught his eyes and were worth mentioning. One of them had a broken nose, the other was bleeding from a wound on his forehead and also seemed to have a dislocated shoulder.

"Can I help you?" the receptionist asked.

"I need to get my things from downstairs. I just wanted to see who worked the reception now that Paige and the rest of them are out," Vandal simply said.

"Ah, then I assume you're Vandal?" she wanted to know.

"Correct."

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Helen," she introduced herself. "I gotta get back to work, though." She gave him a smile and turned back to the computer.

Good, Vandal thought. She didn't talk much.

He walked past the reception and went downstairs. He got his things from his locker in the changing room and put the money into his wallet. He already knew what he would be spending it on. Hannah and food. Probably in combination. If she wanted he'd take her out to the steakhouse downtown. He had wanted to go for a time now and it felt only right to offer to take Hannah. She'd probably think he was being sweet. He wasn't really though. He just wanted what came after to happen at her place. He wanted to see the place she lived because he wanted to know how it compared to Santa Monica's shithole apartments. Though if he really thought about it he wasn't averse to being in her company. She was far less annoying than the general women he had met and the things she had said had actually been interesting. He checked the time. It was only a few minutes after 9. Hannah had said she usually ate quite late, so he would give it a try. He pulled out his phone for the second time this evening and called Hannah.

She picked up after a few moments. "Hi, Vandal." She sounded quite surprised that he was calling again only a day later. "Did I forget anything at your place or something?"

He laughed. "Hello, Hannah. You didn't. I was wondering how you'd like it if I took you to a steakhouse downtown. I just got off work and I haven't had dinner yet. Only if you have time of course."

There was a moment of silence before Hannah answered, "You want to take me out to dinner? Where's the catch? Because that was quick."

Vandal smirked. Hannah was smart and suspicious. Those were both traits he valued. "I'd like to come to your apartment after dinner. Don't worry I'll pay your dinner AND the service. There's no catch."

Now it was Hannah's turn to laugh. "So, you're basically paying me to date you?"

This was brilliant. "If that's how you want to look at it, I guess I am, yes."

"Well, all right. I'm not gonna say no to free dinner. That'd be just plain stupid," Hannah said. "I have no more appointments tonight, so this works out. Haven't eaten anything either. Let's meet up at the steakhouse. Text me the address and the time and I'll be there. I'm happy you asked me. And I'm not just saying this because I'm getting free dinner now."

"See you later then, Hannah," Vandal spoke merrily.

After Hannah had hung up he checked the bus schedule and texted her the address and the time he'd arrive. Then he locked the door to the blood bank again and went on his way. He waited at the bus stop. It wasn't as warm when the sun had been down for a few hours. He preferred colder weather to the insane temperatures that they had during the days at the moment. He hated being overheated. He was rarely cold anyway even during winter. He welcomed the temperature drops during the nights. The clinic's air conditioning was shit. He was always glad when he got out of there, for a bunch of reasons.

The bus arrived 5 minutes later and he got on, then back off about 20 minutes later and made his way down the main street.

Hannah was already waiting for him outside. Vandal looked her up and down with a grin on his face. She wasn't dressed up. She wore simple gray jeans and a light green neckholder top with flowers on it. She wasn't even wearing makeup like she had yesterday. Maybe it had been for another client of hers. He admitted to himself that he did like her better without it. She had overdone it yesterday. Her light honey brown hair wasn't pinned up either. It fell loosely onto her shoulders. She looked good.

"You look different," Vandal smirked and stood a few paces from Hannah. "Gotta say I think this suits you better than yesterday's style. Not that my opinion matters at all or anything."

Hannah actually smiled. "Hey, Vandal. Thank you. This is how I usually dress when I don't have any appointments. I've had the last one a few hours ago. I'm relieved you're not disappointed that I didn't get to dress up in the short time." She stepped up to him and opened her arms, still with a smile on her face.

Vandal questioningly raised his eyebrow. She wanted a hug from him? Really? She was already lowering her arms again when he hadn't moved immediately. He closed the distance and wrapped his arms around her and to his surprise, Hannah hugged back longer than you would for just a greeting. Not long enough to make it awkward though. But he did notice.

"You ok?" he asked her. That was a question that he hadn't uttered in god knew how long.

Hannah stepped back a bit again and told him, "I am now. That made me feel better."

He knew she didn't want to talk about why it had.

He opened the door for her. "Ladies first," he grinned.

Hannah chuckled and entered.

The restaurant was simple but the quality of the steaks was amazing. He had been once before and was quite happy to be going again. He told Hannah to pick a table and she chose one in the right hand corner of the room in the back that had a cushioned bench. He sat down opposite of her and a waiter brought the menu. Hannah ordered white wine and he just ordered a large bottle of water enough for both of them.

"You're not drinking anything else?" Hannah questioned.

"I don't drink at all," he said drily.

"That's unusual. I took you for a beer kind of guy," she admitted.

He smirked. "Sorry to disappoint. Bet you're glad this is not a real date. There will be a lot more disappointments coming along the way I guess."

It made Hannah laugh. "Now, now. I don't think it's disappointing. It's interesting. You're interesting. And real date, paid for date, or no date, doesn't really matter. You asked me out for dinner and I'm actually happy to get to do something normal like this for a change."

She wasn't lying. Vandal hadn't met anyone who he didn't dislike talking in quite a while. It was such a rare thing. He usually hated small talk. If he had to explain why it didn't bother him with Hannah it was probably because she was actually listening to him as well. And that she wasn't stupid. There were so few people out there he was compatible with. Most disliked him as much as he disliked them. It was a good thing he didn't care that they did.

Hannah's voice ripped him out of his thoughts. "I assume you've already been here before? Can you recommend anything?"

"I can. Their T-bone steak is amazing. Their rump steaks as well," he informed her.

"Ah, haven't had a good rump steak in ages. I think I'll have that." Hannah looked up at him and asked, "How about you?"

She was genuinely interested in small details like that. Most people didn't bother to ask and if they did it was usually just to fill more silence.

"I came for the T-bone steak. Haven't had any better than the one they make here. They have perfected the art," he said. He meant it too.

"You're quite passionate about your steaks. I like that. Nothing better than a good steak, isn't there?" Hannah smiled.

"Definitely." Vandal agreed.

The waiter came back and brought the water and wine and took their orders. After he had left again Hannah actually raised her glass to him and said, "To a nice, relaxed evening, good food and a bit of fun after."

Yeah, Hannah really wasn't too bad. If this went well he would actually consider befriending her. He could count his friends on one hand. And the thing was, they didn't live near him. His only female friend had moved to Europe, the other was up in Canada and the third was an 8 hour drive away. Two of them were friends from his high school days. The only ones he had kept in touch with, because they were the only ones that he had truly valued. He had a few acquaintances in the area that were hardly worth mentioning, since he didn't really go out with them, but no real friends. They were hard to come by these days and the older you got the harder it got to make them it seemed to him.

Vandal raised his glass as well and smiled back at her. It was a warmer smile than the usual one he gave people. This one actually reached his eyes. "To my first evening out in forever. And to you having a good time."

He saw the expression on Hannah's face soften. "Thank you, Vandal. That's so nice." She was quiet for a moment and then asked, "Is it really?"

He nodded. "It is. I don't really go out much. As I'm sure you can imagine, most people dislike me. And to be honest, I dislike most of them as well. You were quite tense when you first saw me yesterday."

"You're correct," Hannah spoke. "You were quite cold and distant at first and I'm sure that's what throws people off. It threw me off too. But under that I think there's more to you than meets the eye. You're not so bad. Like I said you're actually interesting. When we were talking I became a lot more comfortable and you seemed to warm up a bit."

Vandal appreciated her honesty. "Thank you, Hannah. You're not so bad either. And I'm not just saying that to be nice. If I disliked you, you would know."

Hannah chuckled, then said quite seriously, "I know I would. A ton of my customers let me feel it when they don't like me. And they're fully aware they can just be total fucking assholes because they're paying me. You're a nice change to that."

"People are assholes, I know that all too well," Vandal grumbled.

"Yeah," Hannah agreed. "Sometimes I wish I could just round up the worst of them and make them see the error in their ways. Gag them, strap them to a chair and fuck them up a bit. Pain's a good reminder that you've done something wrong."

Vandal kept a close look on her face. He hadn't expected 'that' from her. "Out of curiosity. Would you really do that if you had the chance?"

Hannah looked at him and thought before she answered, "I think I actually would. Only the absolute worst of them, the ones that hurt me too. But sure let them walk back out with a few minor scratches, cuts and bruises and they'll 'never' use my service as an excuse to just be shits and abuse me again. I bet I don't even have to lay a hand on most of them, they're probably pussies once they realize what's happening."

"You're full of surprises," Vandal laughed. "There's more to you than meets the eye as well. I quite understand your reasoning behind it. I don't disagree."

"Glad to be in the company of someone who understands," she grinned.

The waiter brought their food. It smelled and looked amazing. Hannah had a look of satisfaction on her face looking at it.

"This was such a wonderful idea," she said. "Thank you again. I'll enjoy every single bite."

"You're welcome. As will I."

They ate in relative silence. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence though. Whenever they did speak Hannah told him some interesting facts about herself that he was sure she wasn't sharing with just anyone. He listened, answered, even told her a bit more about himself and he could see she was genuinely interested in the things he told her about him.

"Everything ok?" the waiter asked them as he came back.

Vandal nodded. "Yes, thank you." He turned to Hannah again and wanted to know, "You want dessert, or another glass of wine?"

Hannah leaned back in her seat and smiled. "I'm good, thank you. I couldn't fit anything into my stomach even if I wanted."

"Then I'll have the bill," he told he waiter.

Vandal paid and Hannah and him went out the door.

"I live at the Skyline apartments," she told him. "I don't think I've said that before."

"You haven't," Vandal said. "We did establish you took the job to pay rent though."

"Yes, that I remember. It's not far from here, we can walk if you want. It takes about 15 minutes," Hannah let him know.

"Sure, we can walk. I prefer walking anyway," he looked around as they made their way down the main street. He could see the club from here. A reconfigured church. "Ever went to the Confession?" he asked her.

"I have. The owner of the club is a fun lady. I quite like her. It's unfortunate that the guy she works with is apparently a real prick. His idea of a late fee when she's unable to pay the monthly plus interest is the same I do to pay rent," she grumbled. "I hope she gets out of it somehow. She should get someone to help her."

"She needs someone who's really good at either setting up new deals, or at killing. Because I don't think the Mafia is gonna be very forthcoming," Vandal smirked. "I talked to her as well."

"I can see how that's a problem," Hannah spoke. "Oh, speaking of killing. The guy on the second floor was found dead in front of his apartment a few nights ago. I never met the guy. I only know his name was Sean Milton. Security guard apparently hadn't noticed a thing. Shady as hell if you ask me."

"Well, at least there's exciting stuff happening near you. The most exciting thing that happened in my neighborhood was the fire department rolling up to save a cat off a roof for an old lady," Vandal grinned.

"I'm allergic to cats," Hannah informed him.

"I'm lucky to have no allergies. Being allergic to food must be the absolute worst," he said. "Even the thought of not being able to eat something is quite painful."

Hannah laughed. "Yeah! Truer words have never been spoken."

Vandal smirked. He was actually enjoying Hannah's company more than he wanted to admit to himself. "Absolutely."

"So, anything specific you want to do when we get to my place?" she inquired.

"Not really. I would enjoy talking some more, actually. What would 'you' like 'me' to do. I'm sure whenever you're at the receiving end it's less than fun for you from all you told me so far. I'm good at following instructions and I'm open for pretty much anything as long as you like it," he smiled.

He saw Hannah's eyes widen just a little. "Really? You're sure?"

"I wouldn't have offered if I didn't mean it, Hannah," he spoke evenly.

"I would love a massage," she spoke. "I know that's such a simple thing, but I'd really like that."

"Then you'll get a massage, if you want anything else after, just ask."

"Thanks. Let me know if you have thought of anything you'd like me to do later," she smiled.

"I will."

They kept talking about this and that until they were in front of the apartment complex.

"I live on the top floor," Hannah said. "We'll take the elevator."

They entered. There was a security guard in the room, next to the door of the maintenance area. Vandal glanced at him. He was eyeing him and Hannah with a weird look on his face. Vandal didn't like it. The guard turned away and went through the door he had been standing next to. Something felt wrong here.

"Is that the security guard who hadn't noticed the dead resident?" Vandal questioned.

"Yes. He's been here even before I moved in," Hannah answered unconcerned.

"Do you know for what reason this complex has one? Are there a lot of break ins in the area?"

"I'm not sure. But he seems to be shit at his job anyway," Hannah answered.

Vandal let out a curt laugh. The guard as Hannah had said earlier seemed shady. He couldn't get rid of the feeling that there was more to it than just not noticing a dead resident.

Hanna unlocked her apartment by typing in a 4 digit code. She didn't notice Vandal was checking which numbers she typed. It was 1203.

"Don't you think it would be safer to use that AND a physical key to get in?" Vandal questioned.

Hannah grinned. "No. I change the code EVERY single day. I have a tendency to misplace stuff. I don't forget my codes though."

So that was why she had asked him if she had forgotten something at his place when he had called.

"Well, then. If that works for you. Good."

She let him in and he curiously looked around the living room. Her apartment was very spacious. It even had a second level. She owned a relatively old TV. The rest of it was completely Asian influenced. Her furniture, flowers, vases, wall murals, everything. If you didn't know who lived here you'd think you'd just walked into an immigrant's apartment. It wasn't overdone though. She had kept the furniture very simple. There weren't any excessive decorations, or extremely colorfully painted designs. Everything was toned down. It looked rather tasteful even though it wasn't quite his style.

"It's not my style, but it is very well arranged. I can appreciate that," Vandal told her. "You have an eye for it."

"Thanks. It took quite a while to decide what I wanted to do. I didn't want anything too boring. The bits of color in the furniture helps quite a lot to make it not look too bleak while still being discreet."

"I agree," he smirked. "This is quite the contrast to my place. It's a lot nicer."

"Your place was cozy," she giggled.

"Not the word I would have used," Vandal replied. "Something like gloomy, comes to mind. You saw how small and horribly lit it was."

"I think the fact that you only had the overhead lamp in the living room and that it was casting a slightly yellow light made the whole ambiance warm and cozy," Hannah smiled. "And the brown leather sofa coupled with the dark wooden furniture wasn't a bad choice. It didn't feel cramped. You used the space you had very well."

Vandal didn't think he had ever gotten so many compliments in one night in all his life. He didn't know how his face looked right now, but it made Hannah smile wider.

"Why don't you get a new job, become a real estate broker," Vandal said. "I bet you could make even the shittiest apartments sound like luxury suites. And thanks."

"I wanted to become an interior designer. Didn't have the money to go to college," she sighed. "Oh, well. I'm not complaining, I have a roof over my head and a job. Can't have everything you want."

"Take your victories where you can," Vandal spoke. "Fair warning… I'm not good at comforting people."

"Then it's a good thing I know how to comfort myself," she said. "But you're right. It's sound advice. I should take my victories where I can."

"Good. So who else lives in the complex?" he wanted to know.

"Come upstairs with me, and I'll tell you more. My sofa is really unfit for two people lying on it. And we'll stop talking quite soon, I assume," Hannah said.

Vandal noticed the slight change in tone. Was she teasing him? She definitely wasn't acting. He followed her upstairs and she kept talking. "Do you know the show Haunted L.A.? The guy who's in charge of it lives on the first floor. He's Simon Milligan." She opened the door to her bedroom and let him enter, then closed it behind them.

Vandal, again looked around. There was a walk in closet, a safe, a few wall murals, a cupboard and a clock hanging to the left of the bed high up on the wall. The clock struck him as weird. It didn't fit the rest of her style.

He asked her, "Say did you choose that?" He pointed at the clock.

"Oh, no. It was already in the apartment when I moved in," she informed him. She sat down on the bed, leaning against the wall behind her and patted the space beside her.

He sat down and told her, "I did see a few episodes of the show when there was nothing else good on TV."

"Yeah, so that's the only real celebrity in the apartment complex. The others are a rich woman, judging from the way she dressed, another apartment is vacant, and then a guy called Paul who I haven't met yet," she finished. "I also watched the TV show, just to see what the guy produced. I wasn't impressed."

"Me neither," he chuckled. He glanced at the clock again. It wasn't displaying the right time.

For a few moments neither of them spoke. Hannah was the one to break the silence. She smiled, "I think I would like that massage you offered, now."

Vandal smiled back at her and spoke, "All right." When she moved to take her shirt off, he stopped her. "Leave it on for the moment, Hannah."

Hannah looked confused, but didn't argue. "Okay." She sat in front of him and he placed his hands on her shoulders and started working. He didn't apply a lot of pressure. He felt her relax. "Tell me if you want me to apply less or more pressure. You're not all that tense anyway."

"No, this is really nice. Can you go closer to my neck?" she asked.

He moved his hands further in towards her spine. "Is that the spot you meant?"

Hannah nodded. "Yes. You're really good at it."

"Thanks." He glanced at the clock again a third time. Hannah couldn't see his face, but his expression darkened. There was a tiny red light coming from the middle of the clock where the hands met. Her apartment was bugged. Someone was watching them and he was pretty sure it was surveillance guy downstairs in the maintenance room. He leaned in closer to Hannah and quietly spoke, "Hannah, your clock isn't displaying the right time. It's an hour back."

"Oh, you're right. I barely use it to check the time. I always use my phone," she answered. She didn't know. She didn't see the small red LED in the middle.

"I'm sorry to interrupt the massage, but can I use the bathroom, real quick?" he asked. He was going to make sure that creep downstairs would get what he deserved.

"Yes, of course," she said. "I'll show you where it is." She got up and he followed her out of the bedroom downstairs again.

When she turned back to him in front of the bathroom door, he spoke quite seriously, "Hannah, your bedroom is bugged. I didn't want to say anything in case they're recording audio too. But that clock up there, had a fucking pinhole camera in it. You could see the red light, if you looked close enough. Someone is filming you. That camera wasn't on when we entered. Someone remote controls it. I'm going to check in the bathroom too. And then I'm going downstairs and I'm putting an end to what I'm pretty sure is surveillance guy spying on you."

Hannah's face slipped. "I never noticed. That's horrible." It was all she had to say to that before he entered, and sure enough he did find another camera. This one disguised as a cleverly placed hook to hang towels on.

"Bathroom is bugged too," he growled. "I'm sure you wanna come with to watch me verbally attack this guy."

"Absolutely. If you run out of words I can help." Hannah's initial shock had turned to anger. "You know what? If it comes up tell him you're my boyfriend. That's probably equal to punching him in the face."

He smirked, "Will do, princess."

It got a short laugh out of her despite the whole situation being surreal. "Aw!"

"Come on then, before that creep downstairs notices we're not going back upstairs for now," Vandal said and Hannah followed him to the elevator. He pressed the button to call it up. "Another word of warning, if that guy starts pissing me off too much, he's in for a black eye. If that's ok with you."

"If he's really spying on me, then that's fine. He deserves it," Hannah answered. "You often get into fights?"

He chuckled, "Not anymore. I used to when I was a lot younger. I had problems keeping my anger in check actually. I learned how to manage it. I mean, I still get angry a lot faster than most people, but I don't uncontrollably lash out anymore." The words had left his mouth before he even realized it. Why was he telling her this? He should not be telling her this. This was his personal baggage and it should not be unloaded onto someone he had known for two days.

"Oh, I'm glad to hear that it got better," Hannah said. "Did you work through it yourself or did you have help?"

Vandal had expected her to to give him a curt answer, only an acknowledgement of that she had heard what he had said and then redirect the conversation. He was quiet for a moment.

Hannah was quick to add, "You don't have to tell me. I'm sorry. I sometimes forget it's not as easy for everyone to talk about things like that than it is for me. I hope I didn't upset you, I didn't mean to."

Hannah wasn't just nice. She was considerate and sweet as well. She was quite different from him in that regard, but it didn't put him off that she was so open about the topic. Maybe that was why he had kept talking in the first place. It was out now anyway, so he might as well answer her very honest question.

He sighed, "It's all right. It's just that I don't usually talk about this personal things if I haven't known the person for a long time. But your interest in it is genuine, so I might as well answer. I had a friend help me and after talking with him I went into counselling for a short while. I'm glad he approached me, suggested it and reassured me. Otherwise I wouldn't have gone." It was one of the reasons he respected the staff on the third floor of the clinic. It had helped a lot.

"It's good to have people who care and don't turn their backs on you, just because it's hard to deal with. I had to make the decision to see a therapist after my depression hit its peak a year ago on my own, cause no one wanted to talk about it," Hannah grumbled. Her expression brightened again quickly and she kept saying, "I'm off meds and don't need any more sessions now, cause things are looking a lot better. I'm sure that tells you how bad it had been without me even saying more."

"I'm glad to hear you're better too." He really was and it was so unusual for him. The elevator doors opened and they got in.

Hannah hit the button for the ground floor. "Thank you. Look at us bonding here. Guess the creep downstairs did an unintentional good deed," she grinned.

Vandal laughed. "He's still gonna get verbally destroyed in a moment though."

"Absolutely!"

He saw something in Hannah's eyes flicker. He wished it had been longer. He thought it had been something close to admiration, but he wasn't sure. This was the quickest he had ever gotten to actually like someone in such a short time. He almost couldn't believe it.

The elevator had arrived at the ground floor and they stepped out. Surveillance guy was still in the maintenance area.

"Well, let's go say hi," Vandal grinned. "If it's locked I'll knock first."

Hannah followed on his heels. The door wasn't locked, so he went in and down the stairs, just to find 4 more doors. If he was lucky, these weren't locked either. He took the first to his right and opened it. He had hit the jackpot.

Surveillance guy spun around in his chair, his expression going from shock to anger in mere seconds. "You're not supposed to be in here! The maintenance area is for staff only!" He stood up.

Vandal stepped towards him in a quite threatening manner and spoke, his voice not raising in the slightest, but filling with menace, "And you're not supposed to spy on people in their own homes." He took a look at the screen that was showing Hannah's bedroom.

"You got it wrong. We have cameras set up in each apartment for surveillance. There have been so many break ins in the area that it was required!" the security guy spoke. He was trying to talk himself out of it. Vandal knew better.

"So you're spying on EVERYONE in the building?" he asked, lowering his voice even more.

"We're not spying! It's just for their safety!"

The guy stood his ground as Vandal stepped closer. He snapped, "Liar! I hate liars! You can control these remotely! I SAW the red light turn on earlier! What's done with the footage you capture?!"

"I will not ask you again. Leave. You're not supposed to be here!" the guard spoke angrily.

"I am not going ANYWHERE," Vandal growled. "I'm going to REPORT you to the cops! But before I do that, you will TELL ME what you're doing with the footage!" He closely watched the guy's movements.

"You will do NO such thing! I WARNED YOU! This is your last chance. Leave."

"Or what?" Vandal sneered.

"Or I will have to use force!"

Vandal's stare turned to ice. "No. You will get what you deserve and I will get my answers."

"Then you leave me no cho-" the last word died in his mouth. Vandal had seen the guard's hand twitch to reach for his gun and he had immediately reacted and slammed his fist into his throat. He grabbed the gun from the guard's holster as his hands reflexively went up because of the pain. He popped out the magazine in one swift motion and put it into the back pocket of his jeans.

When the guard stood straight again he was staring at Vandal with a mix of shock and fear.

"You didn't just 'seriously' try to pull a GUN on me?!" Vandal's voice dripped with venom. "Guns make people cocky. Idiot. You just made things a million times worse for yourself!" His eyes didn't leave the guard, but he addressed Hannah and his voice was calm when he did so. "Are you alright, Hannah?"

"Yes," she answered quite tensely.

He held out the gun to her. "Take it. It makes a good club. If he tries anything use the handle to hit him with."

Hannah took it from him and to his surprise her hand wasn't shaking. "I'm calling the cops, right now."

"Good." He waited until Hannah had made the call, then he spoke to the security guard again, "You're not moving until they get here. Now START TALKING! Are you SELLING that footage on the black market? Or is it just for your personal use?"

"Fuck you!" the guard spat. "She's a prostitute, she shouldn't care she's being watched! She does it for a living!"

"Excuse ME?" Hannah snapped. Vandal glanced at her. She was angry. And she was still holding her phone in her left hand. The gun in the other.

"If I blur the faces it's not even a problem anymore. So what, I sell them on the black market and set up the cameras? There are worse things," the security guy said.

"I think what you're doing is pretty far up there," Vandal hissed. "It'll get you a long time behind bars!"

"You can't prove it was me!" he mocked. "Even with the correspondence on the computers."

Vandal laughed in his face. "Good thing we don't need to prove it. Not anymore. You already confessed it."

"You got nothing on me!"

"Wow, you're even more stupid than I thought," Vandal said, disgusted. "Sit down on the floor against the wall! It'll probably take a few more minutes until the cops arrive. I don't want you trying anything. And keep your mouth shut from now on!" he ordered.

The guy did as he was told. Hannah stepped up next to Vandal.

"You did good to record that," he told her. "All we have to do now is wait."

The cops arrived around 10 minutes later. They took the guard with them and Hannah and Vandal let them in to check for the hidden cameras in the apartment. They immediately went on to check every room and removed everything from the other resident's homes as well. They took the key to go into the vacant apartment. It took quite a while until they had secured all the evidence and left again. They filed a witness report for Vandal and Hannah which they both signed and had the recording Hannah had taken sent to them. They let them know that they might be summoned to court in a week or two from now. They didn't have to go to the station with them.

When the door to Hannah's apartment finally shut again all the tension seemed to run out of her. Her shoulders slouched and she looked a bit drained.

Vandal had dealt with the police so often that it didn't faze him anymore. When he had still lived with his parents, it hadn't exactly been such a great time.

"That was insane," Hannah breathed. She flopped down on the sofa. "Can't believe he tried to pull a gun…"

Vandal sat down next to her. "I despise guns, for more than one reason."

"Me too." Hannah said. "I'm sorry to have to ask so bluntly, but could you just hold me for a short while?"

"Sure," he turned to her and she leaned against him. He wrapped his arms around her and kept quiet. He started counting the seconds away in his head. He had arrived at 63 when she pulled back again.

"Thank you, Vandal."

She looked better than a minute and three seconds earlier. She was completely calm again. "You're welcome," he smiled. Then he asked, "Want me to finish that massage that got so horribly interrupted?"

"Now it pays off even more," Hannah grinned. "I would like that, yes. And now we're completely undisturbed too, unless you find more cameras that even the police missed."

"Let's hope not," he replied. "One unpleasant surprise is enough for one night."

They went upstairs again, and when Hannah moved to remove her shirt this time, he didn't stop her. She undid her bra as well and lay down on the bed on her stomach. "There. You have my whole back to work with. Feel free to sit down on my butt or lower back," she laughed.

He sat down somewhere in between and just traced his fingers along her back lightly before he started his massage again. He had worked for a good five minutes before he asked, "Are you enjoying it?"

"Immensely," Hannah let him know. "I don't even have to say anything. It's great like it is."

"I'm glad to hear it," he hummed.

After about 15 minutes Hannah spoke again. "Thank you so much. Want to swap places? Or do you want something different?"

"Let's swap places, why not. Never got a massage before," he grinned. He got off Hannah, took off his shirt and lay down.

"Really?" Hannah asked as she sat down on him and started working.

"Nope." He focused on her hands on his back. She was very gentle. He wasn't complaining. It felt great.

"What happened?" Hannah asked and traced one of the larger scars on his back with a finger. "I didn't notice these yesterday. I only saw the one on your arm."

"The ones on my back were an accident. I got pushed, tripped and fell into broken glass," Vandal said darkly. "The one on my arm is my own fault."

"Also an accident?" she wanted to know.

"No. It probably sounds very strange and absolutely stupid… But I wanted to know how much it'd hurt," he simply stated. "It was a one time thing."

"Did you use a razor?"

Vandal almost laughed. This conversation was not at all going how he had expected. He actually liked how it was going. "Kitchen knife. Don't try it. It hurt quite a bit and was bleeding a lot. Cleaning it up was as little fun as as the rest of it."

"Noted," Hannah said, still massaging his back. "I only know how much razor blades hurt. Cut myself way too often shaving my legs. I seem to be really bad at it. I always slip. I gave up on it and started waxing."

Now he really did laugh. "Self torture is what I'd call that. I imagine that's worse than just a single cut? I mean you're ripping that hair out at the roots in a large area."

"It is. But I have weeks of peace after that. It's worth it," she let him know.

"Well, I don't have to do it," he grinned. "What you do is your business. I'm surprised you neither commented on the fact that the whole idea of cutting your own arm just to see how much it hurts is probably not a normal thing, nor does it seem to bother you."

"There is no normal in my honest opinion. You can only be very close to what is 'considered' normal. And you're correct, it doesn't bother me. I think about weird stuff sometimes and then look it up on google. You just went one step further and actually put that thought into action." Hannah was not in the slightest uncomfortable. Vandal could hear it in her voice.

"Like what?" he questioned. He couldn't imagine what she'd consider weird stuff.

"The last weird thing I looked up was actually related to your work. I watched how to perform a vein puncture. And after that, and that happens quite a lot… I also wanted to know how long it'd take to bleed out and what would happen if you tapped into an artery. Didn't find anything on the last one." And then, Hannah said something that made him extremely excited. "Do you know? Or can you imagine what would happen? You take blood every day."

He liked hypothetical questions like this. This was dangerously close to getting onto his list of things he wanted to try. And he knew he shouldn't put it on the list. He could not put it on the list. He forbid himself from doing it. This could be solved in his head without putting it into action. "It depends which artery you tap into. If it's the carotid artery in your neck or the femoral artery in your thigh you'd pass out within 30 seconds because of the blood pressure drop, I guess. You'd be dead in a few minutes. I assume it would be possible to drain someone of almost all their blood like that. But it'd be messy. You'd have to dig around to find the artery first and all that."

"Yeah, I can imagine. You'd need to change out the blood bags a lot too, right?" Hannah wanted to know.

It was a pity he couldn't look at her face right now. "Yes. That's one of the reasons it'd be so messy. That would just spill everywhere."

Hannah chuckled. "That's one of the most interesting and at the same time bizarre conversations I ever had. I'm quite liking it though."

"I can just repeat myself. You're full of quite 'pleasant' surprises," Vandal spoke.

"So are you," she told him. "I really didn't think we'd be talking about-"

"Hypothetical murder while you're giving a massage?" he laughed. "Me neither!"

"Yes!" she laughed with him, and the sound wasn't unpleasant to his ears. "So, if I ever want to talk more about any hypothetical murder or torture scenarios, I can come to you? We'll make it our secret."

Vandal was immensely pleased. "Of course. Any time, Hannah."

"Nice!"

"I think, I'm good massage wise now," he smiled.

Hannah got off him and he sat up and turned to her. Before he could say more, she asked him, "Do you ever think to yourself, for instance when you're in the kitchen with someone, that you could just kill them? Like, this is messed up and I'd never do it. But I catch myself thinking, I could just grab a knife from the drawer and slice their throat, or stab them and they'd never see it coming. Or when someone stands close to the edge on a high building or a cliff. I could just push them off."

Vandal stared at her. Hannah was not lying, she wasn't faking this. You could not fake or even try to pretend to have a line of thought like that.

This was so eerily close to his own thoughts. It was like she was speaking things he had in his head. "Yes, more often than I would want to admit. And it feels good, knowing you could do it."

"It does, doesn't it? I think it's because it's the strongest possible choice you can make in the situation," Hannah mused. "Not that it's a rational, right choice, but it is the strongest. That's true for the reverse too. Thinking you could just jump off that cliff, or building. Again, I'd never do it, of course, but the thought is still there. Maybe it's sick, maybe I'm sick and don't know it. I don't know, and don't really care either."

"If you think it's sick, then I am too," he grinned. "You're taking the words from my mind and are speaking them aloud right now."

Hannah leaned in and he felt her body heat. "Maybe I should just place them back into your mouth?"

His body was screaming 'yes' and his nerves were singing. His hand seemingly moved without his control. He was reaching for her face before he even knew what he was doing. He gently stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. He'd never before done anything like it, he didn't even know where the sudden affectionate gesture came from, but it felt right. It felt entirely different from yesterday too. It felt like Hannah now 'wanted' to kiss him and wasn't just doing it because it was her job. The evening before she'd been far more 'clinical', for lack of a better word. She hadn't been averse to it, but it had been a bit more neutral. He felt attracted to her and her way of thinking, because it was so similar to his own. Shit, he wanted her to want him. Somewhere in the back of his head he knew this was going to backfire somehow. He had never been this quick to feel this comfortable in someone's company. This could be such a big mistake.

"Yes," he chuckled. "Put them back where they belong."

Hannah smiled and took his face in her hands. "This is probably such a bad idea on my part, and it goes against everything I ever told myself not to do, but fuck it. I want this to be a date. You're not paying me tonight. I want this too much. I feel more normal talking to you than I feel with other people, despite the fact that the things we were talking about aren't quite what people would consider normal."

Vandal was about to reply, but Hannah had already pressed her lips on his and the words died in his mouth as he opened it and kissed her back. Every thought he had had got pushed far back into his head and all that was left was the scent and taste of her. He felt her hands run into his hair and he pulled her closer until their bodies touched. He lightly traced his fingers along her back and her response was to kiss him deeper. He returned it with the same intensity. Hannah's hands moved from his hair, along the sides of his neck and then she placed them on his chest. He immediately broke off the kiss and pulled back enough to look at her.

There was surprise on Hannah's face. "Everything ok?" she asked him, almost worried.

"Yes," he told her with a raised eyebrow. "I thought you wanted me to stop."

Hannah smiled. Her eyes were filled with something he couldn't quite place. She almost looked touched that he had immediately stopped, even just thinking she wanted him to. That he had pulled back to make sure she was ok and showed concern. "Oh, no. I didn't. I'm sorry that that was unclear. I wanted to prompt you to lie down and pull me with you."

"Well, I guess I'm only good at following verbal instructions then," he grinned.

She laughed and traced her fingers downwards towards his stomach. "That's all right." She went on to tell him what she wanted him to do, then asked him and he gave her permission to do whatever she wanted as long as she didn't leave any visible marks on him.

They took off the rest of their clothes and Hannah started kissing him again.

When Vandal was finally breathing again normally, he was tracing lines along Hannah's back without her even asking for it. She lay on top of him with her head rested on his chest and she was smiling. They hadn't bothered to get dressed again yet.

"If I didn't know better, you're not even consciously doing it," Hannah said.

"I am fully aware I'm doing it. I like the feeling of skin brushing against my fingertips, believe it or not," he informed her. He didn't even need to raise his voice above a whisper to be heard in the quiet of the room.

"I'm not complaining. It's nice. I have to be careful that I don't fall asleep on you," she giggled. "It's extremely relaxing."

"I have no problems waking you up," Vandal said calmly. "And I agree. When do you get up tomorrow?"

"Well, most of my appointments, as you already know, are usually in the afternoon and evening," Hannah told him. "So I can sleep in, unlike you. I'll probably sleep till 9 or something."

A look of distaste flitted across his face. "Don't remind me. I get up at ungodly hours when I have the early shift. I'm a night owl. I barely manage to drag myself out of bed each morning. I drink unhealthy amounts of coffee to keep myself awake." His eyes scanned Hannah's naked body and he had a quiet smile on his lips. She was actually pretty muscular, even though she was relatively thin. "Do you do sports? You got a lot of muscle to you."

"I go to the gym at least 3 times a week. I always make room for that," Hannah spoke and he could hear she was happy that he had noticed. "You look like you go too."

"Not as often. Only once a week, but I lift weights at home," he grinned. "I would have no problems picking you up from the bed."

"I don't doubt it," Hannah hummed.

He ran his hand back up her back and brushed her hair to the side so that her neck was exposed. His index finger drew all the way along her spine and he felt Hannah's entire body loosen up, every muscle relaxed and it seemed to be without her control. Her weight on him increased slightly, and she was almost limp for a moment.

"Well, that's interesting," he commented. "That was involuntary, wasn't it?"

"Yes," she answered. "I don't know why it happens, but I can't stop it. It doesn't bother me though."

"It's definitely an unusual response. I've never seen anything like it. Do you mind if I do it again?" he asked.

"No, go ahead. It's releasing every last bit of tension left in me," she smiled.

He moved his finger back up again and her reaction was indeed the exact same as before. He started playing with her hair. "So, before you cut me off with that kiss, I was going to ask if you're sure about me not paying you. I could pay you at least half your rate, if you don't want to have the full one."

She propped herself up, raised her head and looked at him. She thought a moment before she spoke, "Now I'm even more sure than before that you're not paying me, Vandal. The only way I would accept you paying me now, is if you really didn't want it to be a real date… It's crazy, but I do like you."

He slowly and gently pulled her head towards him. "Then let me pay you with a thank you and a kiss, princess." He gave her a long, deep kiss.

Hannah returned it and when she pulled back again, her cheeks were flushed.

Vandal found the sight of it endearing. "I don't think I've ever been this quick to like someone," he admitted. What he meant was like and genuinely be attracted to someone like he was to her. Hannah was right, it was crazy.

"Then you know how I feel. We've only known each other for like 2 days and I seriously feel like I've known you much longer. It's strange," Hannah chuckled. She smiled and then continued, "I think I like that you're calling me princess, actually."

"I can continue to call you that, if you want," he smiled.

"I would like it, yes." She leaned back down and kissed him again, quickly. "When does the prince have to be at work tomorrow?"

He laughed. "I'm no prince. I have to be at work at 6:30 AM. The blood bank opens at 7 AM."

"Oh, man! That really is an ungodly hour," Hannah groaned.

"Yeah, by the way, what time is it?" His phone was downstairs in his jacket.

Hannah got to her knees and reached over for her phone on the nightstand. "Oh, shit. 12:18 AM."

He grumbled, "I guess we have the security creep and the police to thank for that. At this point I get like no sleep before I can go off to work again. Oh, well."

"You can sleep here. I already broke one of my rules, might as well just throw all of them out the window," Hannah said.

"Ok. Then I will. Thanks," Vandal replied. He didn't really care where he slept as long as it was long enough not to be a total wreck at work later. Hannah's couch would do.

"You're welcome," Hannah smiled. "I'm only slightly sleepy, so just tell me if you want to go to sleep right now or not and I'll go downstairs. I'll sleep on the sofa."

"You're letting me sleep 'in your bed'?" he asked, baffled.

Hannah laughed happily. "Yes. It's no big deal."

Vandal started grinning and said, "Or you could just stay here, and fall asleep with me, if you prefer. I am actually tired."

Hannah didn't need to be told twice. She smiled wider and tapped a few buttons on her phone. She placed it on the stand again, before she lay back down on him and he wrapped his arms around her.

"Good night, Vandal," she breathed as she rested her head over his heart. "I had a very good time."

His fingers ghosted over her skin again for a moment and he answered, "Good night, princess. I did too."

After a few minutes he was already drifting off to sleep. His last thought before he was completely out was that he wouldn't mind at all if they became a thing.

* * *

Notes:

Inspiration to start this whole thing was this dialogue option from the game:

PC (seduction line): "Are you sure there is nothing I could do to you to change your mind?"  
Vandal: "Start breathing, you corpse. I already fell for that act once and that's how I came to end up here. Her blood frees me and binds me. I'm eternally hers... slave to the bitch goddess."

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of the story.

I am aware that the processing for the police is not quite accurate, but I didn't want to interrupt the flow of the story too much.


	3. Cheating Death and Meeting the Deranged

Chapter 2: Cheating Death and Meeting the Deranged

Vandal awoke to the sound of a buzzing phone and a rock song that he didn't recognize. He opened his eyes and still couldn't see, he was blind in the darkness of the room. The light from the phone wasn't strong enough to light anything up. Hannah was still lying on top of him. They had slept like dead it seemed. Neither of them had moved in their sleep.

"Fuck," Hannah grunted. She only stretched out her arm, trying to grab the phone from the nightstand. "Ugh!" She couldn't reach it.

"Turn it off," Vandal growled. He couldn't stand noise in the morning. It didn't matter what it was, music, TV, even people chatting excessively during the morning hours on the bus. It irritated him. It made him downright furious. It was one of the things he'd never quite gotten rid of, even with the help of counselling. He knew full well it wasn't rational. At least he could keep himself from physically lashing out and shouting at people now.

He felt Hannah's hand on his chest as she propped herself up and switched off the alarm. She slumped back down onto him, letting out a sound that made it clear that she was definitely not in the mood to get up either. "Five more minutes?" she asked him.

"If there's enough time, make it ten," he murmured.

"There's enough time. Busses go every ten minutes and the bus stop is right around the corner, not even a 2 minute walk away," she informed him. "They all stop at the clinic. It's currently four fucking thirty in the morning."

"You're aware that you don't have to get up with me, right?" he said to her, amused.

Hannah's hands searched for his face in the dark, when she had found it, she repositioned herself on him, leaned down until her lips were almost touching his and replied, "Wouldn't want you to go without a proper cup of coffee and something to eat. And also a shower."

"You're extremely good at making people feel at home, aren't you?" he grinned.

"Not people. That's just for you. You're getting special treatment here," she said, warmly. From her tone Vandal knew she was smiling, even though he couldn't see.

Vandal didn't know what he liked most right now. The fact that she had actually set her alarm to wake him up after she had asked him when he needed to go to work, the fact that she had set it so that he had enough time to eat breakfast and take a shower, the fact she was going to make him coffee, the fact that she already wanted to kiss him again instead of talk, or the fact that she was truly as attracted to him as he was to her. "I feel honored. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Hannah said, her breath hitting his skin. He felt her thumbs gently stroke his cheeks. "Kiss me."

She was already so close that he only had to move his head forward a tiny bit. He lightly placed his lips on hers, slowly pushing his tongue into her mouth, before retreating it and brushing her lips again. He felt Hannah smiling under the kiss.

Pulling back he said, "You 'really' like that, don't you? I don't need to see to be able to tell you're smiling right now."

"I do," Hannah whispered. "I guess it's because all the rest of my clients are just brutes…" She trailed off and was silent for a moment, then she spoke, "You're being extremely gentle with me. It's wonderful."

Vandal petted her head. "If any of those brutes ever needs a verbal beating, or a physical one, let me know," he offered.

Hannah chuckled, "Ok, I will." She was still right above him and already leaning back down. "I think that deserves a good morning kiss as well."

He grinned. "If you want to give me one, I'll enjoy it."

And enjoy it, he did.

When Hannah's lips left his again his skin was still tingling. He ran a finger along her collar bone and said, "It feels amazing. You're great."

Hannah laughed. "Thank you! That's the first time anyone ever told me that. You're too!" She rolled off him and continued, "What do you want to eat? I have cereal, bread, cheese, bacon, eggs, ham, jam. Do you drink your coffee black?"

He sat up and answered, "I do drink my coffee black, and you can just set the table with what you're usually having. I don't really eat all that much in the morning."

"All right," she smiled and got up.

Vandal squeezed his eyes shut at the sudden brightness in the room. He groaned.

"Fuck, I forgot to dim them after the police left. What the hell. I think I just blinded us," Hannah huffed.

The light behind his closed lids reduced and he opened them. He had expected Hannah to put on underwear before turning the lights back on for some reason, but she hadn't.

"You can use the bathroom, while I take care of breakfast," Hannah told him and turned around to look at him. She was still smiling. He didn't think she'd stopped the entire time they had been awake.

He stood up and walked to the cupboard. Hannah came over and stood behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind and placing a kiss on his cheek before letting go again.

He smiled at her as he turned. He was still amazed at the fact how incredibly fast they'd both taken a liking to each other. "Thank you, princess. I'll be right back then." He gave her another quick kiss and made his way downstairs to the bathroom.

Hannah threw on panties and a t-shirt and started making breakfast for the both of them.

She was just putting down the pot with coffee when Vandal came back, fully dressed. He sat down at the set table. Hannah sat opposite to him. He eyed the stereo across the room and said, "You're not someone who turns on the radio in the morning?"

She pulled a face. "Ugh, hell no! I mean I can, if you want to, but I usually want quiet in the morning. I'm so not a morning person."

"I already noticed, and it suits me fine," he smirked. "I can't stand any noise in the morning."

"Perfect." Hannah poured herself a cup of coffee and smiled as Vandal pushed over his empty cup to her to fill it as well. "You're not really awake yet, huh? Same here."

Vandal didn't answer verbally. He just shrugged and grinned at her.

"I made it extra strong. I hope it's not too much," Hannah let him know.

"I'll be fine, believe me. I doubt you make it as strong as I do," he said and took a sip.

"And?"

It was a lot stronger than he had expected. "Well, I don't have to hold back if I ever make coffee for us. This comes very close to what I drink each morning."

"Wonderful." Hannah went on to make herself bread with cheese. "Enjoy breakfast, Vandal."

"I am already and I will continue to do so," he smiled.

They ate in complete silence. Only when they had finished and each of them had drunk 2 cups of coffee did Vandal speak again.

"That was great," he said. And he meant it too. He looked at Hannah and leaned over the table slightly as he continued, "So, since this now was an official date, let me ask you how you liked it. Because I liked it 'a lot'."

Hannah laughed. She looked happy. "Same. Second date at your place? Some time this week?"

"Sure. Just tell me when you have time," he spoke. "I have a day off work the day after tomorrow."

"That's great, then I won't set any appointments for that day. You up for spending an entire afternoon and night with me?" Hannah grinned.

"I would love to." He held out his hand across the table and teased, "I hope you don't get tired of my company and bail out halfway during the evening."

Hannah shook his hand. "I highly doubt that. It's more likely we'll be all over each other halfway through. Right?" She grinned and bit her lip.

Vandal laughed. "You are incredible. Whatever you want to do, princess. Make a suggestion. We can also plan something, if you wanna go anywhere."

"We don't need to plan. We're so alike, I don't think anything will go wrong if we just meet up at your place and see where our mood takes us," Hannah said.

"Works for me," he grinned.

Hannah grinned back and remarked, "Damn. I like us together. This is so what the fuck."

"I agree with both statements," Vandal replied with a smirk on his lips.

He checked the time again and asked Hannah how many appointments she'd have today. Her schedule was packed. She had to be at her first client's place at 1 PM. Her last would probably be done at about 12 AM, which would make her be back home around 12:30.

"Can I text you during work?" Hannah wanted to know. "I always have short breaks in between appointments."

"Sure, I just can't promise I'll be able to reply."

"Ah, that's ok. I just need to vent. The first appointment will be hell," Hannah said, her voice holding first amusement, then revulsion.

"All right." Vandal spoke. "I'll do my best. I might just make Bill or Phil take donations for an hour, we'll see."

"Well, it's fine if you can't. Really. You'll just be greeted by a wall of text when you get off work then," Hannah laughed. "It'll be therapeutic for me to get everything out of my system after for once."

Vandal raised an eyebrow and Hannah bluntly said, "I never had the chance to tell anyone what goes on in my head after having to be fucked by that sleazebag. And I know you'll understand."

Vandal felt a surge of incredibly rare pity pulse through him. He actually felt bad for Hannah. "I will be certain to add a variety of torture suggestions for that particular guy to your list once you've sent it," he said sweetly.

"Aw! Thank you, Vandal!" Hannah's eyes were shining with unconcealed excitement.

"You're more than welcome."

They talked for a while longer before they cleaned up the table and Vandal made his way to the blood bank. Hannah brought him to the door and opened it for him.

She looked at him expectantly. It didn't take him a second to know what she wanted.

"This borders on addiction," he joked.

"It's a healthy addiction," she grinned and leaned closer. "Besides, you don't even mind. You like it."

He gently pulled Hannah against him, gave her a light squeeze and kissed her. He didn't mind. And she was right. He did like it.

"See you, Vandal," Hannah smiled before reluctantly letting go of him again.

"See you, Hannah princess." He took her hand and placed another kiss on it before he turned and called up the elevator.

Hannah waved and closed the door with a look of bliss on her face.

As soon as Vandal was on the bus to the blood bank, his mood deteriorated again. He had a feeling that today was going to be hell. Even more so than usual. His intuition was usually spot on. Something was going to disturb his usual workflow and it wasn't going to be Hannah's texts. He was looking forward to these. No, his gut was telling him something was going to set him off today. He just knew.

He arrived and went downstairs to the locker room and changed. His first hour after the blood bank opened he worked on his own. Phil and Bill came in at 8 and they would also close the blood bank on their own in the evening. Today was one of the shorter work days where they were only open from 7 AM to 5 PM.

He went into the donation section and opened the drawer with the disinfectants and the sterilized needles, tubes and bags. What he saw made him want to rip a certain someone's head off. The chaos that faced him wasn't Phil's doing. Phil only forgot to do things, but at least he was very meticulous with the things he did remember and his care showed. Bill on the other hand constantly left messes in his wake. It ranged from paperwork not having been put back into the designated folders, to used needles left on counters, to this.

The drawer looked like someone had just thrown everything in and slammed it back shut. The tubes he was looking at were a tangled mess. He was lucky if he even got them separated without damaging them.

He took a deep breath and checked the next drawer. He faced the same disaster.

Bill had probably put away the last delivery of supplies.

Vandal balled his fists and growled, "If you were here right now, I swear to god, I am not sure I would be able to keep myself from strangling you with this mess of tubes." He was pissed, more than pissed. He was boiling inside. He had no time to fix this right now, even if he had wanted to. He had a ton of other things to take care of before they opened.

The third drawer greeted him tidy, but half empty. The disinfectants were missing. Phil's handiwork.

The fourth was completely full and in an excellent state. It was the one he had filled and sorted 2 days ago.

"Why do I even have co-workers. I could run this thing alone," Vandal huffed. "It would save me a lot of breath and strain on my self control."

With a growl of frustration he went upstairs to get a few bottles of disinfectant. Thankfully he didn't encounter anyone in the hallways and the room that held the medication, disinfectants and various other things was empty. His luck however was short lived. As he was about to push open the door leading back to the staircase someone called his name.

He didn't recognize the voice. That in itself was strange. He knew all the personnel from the first and second floor. So either this was someone from the third, or someone who worked part time. Still it didn't explain why they knew his name. It made him wary. This was unusual. Why the hell were they down here? Every floor, except the blood bank had their own supply storage room, so the reason couldn't be that they needed to get something.

He turned, his expression cold. A young woman with jet black hair, straight bangs and a ponytail was walking down the hall towards him. She was very small and wore the white uniform pants and long sleeve shirt from the third floor. She came to a halt in front of him. She was indeed short. Her head only reached up to his chest. Raising her chin, she looked at him.

Vandal didn't speak. Her eyes were like the sky on a clear night. Dark blue and shining with the light of a million stars. She was way too happy to be here. He needed to change that, quickly. Nobody should look this happy when faced with the look he was giving her.

She wasn't saying anything. She just kept looking at him. He had already counted 5 seconds and was about to turn away from her and just leave, when the woman spoke, "You don't remember me, do you?"

What the fuck was that supposed to mean? He didn't know her!

"I'm Lizzy," the woman continued. "Lizzy Mason. We lived in the same neighborhood. We both went to the only elementary school in town."

Now that he heard her name he could place her, but the memory was very faint. They had never spoken at any point in time before. Their only interaction had been a nodded greeting whenever they had passed by each other on the school grounds or near their homes. They had also never seen each other again after. If she thought they'd be friends only because they had living near each other and elementary school in common she was dead wrong. They were complete strangers and that wouldn't change that.

"I started working here yesterday and when I saw your name under the picture on the employee list, I thought it'd be a good idea to say hi," Lizzy smiled.

He already intensely disliked her. She was chatting on in a tone that made it clear to him that she already thought of this as reuniting with a long lost friend.

"I'm on the third floor. Santa Monica's ward so much larger than my previous one."

Every word Lizzy spoke increased his dislike towards her. He was not interested. If he was, he would have asked. If she was going to tell him her life's story, he would shut her down so fast that she wouldn't even know what had happened.

When Lizzy opened her mouth again, it took all of Vandal's remaining control not to just drop what he was holding and cover it with one hand, while grabbing the back of her head with the other and pressing down hard enough to hurt her.

"I'm sorry, Lizzy," he spoke cold enough to make her face contort in discomfort. "I only recognize your name. I do not remember you. If you'll excuse me, I have to bring these downstairs so I can get everything ready and clean up the mess my co-workers left me with." His eyes flicked to the bottles he was holding, then back to Lizzy's face. He was screaming inside. Her discomfort had immediately disappeared off her face again. She was one of those types of women who 'needed' to be friends with everyone and he knew she would fucking come downstairs with him if he didn't put an immediate stop to her line of thought.

Lizzy was faster. She was already stepping past him and holding the door open. "At least let me get that for you. I'll accompany you."

Fuck. The worst thing about this was that it really was easier to have the doors held for you when you had your arms full with half a drawer worth of disinfectant.

Vandal didn't slow his pace for her. If she had to hurry to keep up with him it would cause her to talk less. Unfortunately for him, Lizzy didn't have any problems keeping up. She was starting to ask questions. Couldn't she just shut up? How the hell could anyone be this chatty in the morning? He wanted to rip her vocal chords out.

He only gave her curt answers, most of them not more than one or two words. It didn't put her off asking more. He felt like he was being interrogated. He fucking HATED being prodded for information like this. This was worse than small talk. What she was asking for was personal information about his life. Which schools he had gone to, what jobs he'd had and more. When she asked him about his parents the last bit of control he was desperately trying to hold onto slipped from him further.

He had just put down everything on the counter in the donation section and his balled fist slammed down on it. His head snapped to Lizzy, who immediately took a step away from him.

"I don't see how any of this is even remotely your business," he spoke menacingly. He fully turned to her and he could sense that she knew she had crossed a line by asking about them. "Now get out of my sight."

Lizzy looked genuinely sorry, but he didn't care. When she didn't move and was about to apologize, he cut her off. His voice was filled with something very close to hate.

"Get lost." Or there will be a severe work accident involving a needle being inserted into your carotid artery.

Now she was hurt and it made him smile cruelly. The look in her eyes changed again. He knew she'd avoid him from now on. She looked unsettled. She turned and hurried to get out.

When he was finally, thankfully, alone his anger slowly subsided. He hadn't been this close to losing all his self control in a very long time. He placed his index and middle finger on the side of his wrist and inhaled, slowly and very deeply. He breathed out just as slow. He did so until he felt his own pulse go down under his fingers. He was exhaling his anger. It took a full minute until he was calm again. He wasn't sure if he would have been able to manage if it wasn't silent down here save for the air conditioning.

He put the supplies away and headed for the booth. He was glad for the hour of peace he had before he would have to tear Bill and Phil apart for the travesty they had caused. He had been right. Today was already hell and his day hadn't even officially started yet.

He booted the computer and checked the mail. A few unfiltered spam mails. Nothing unusual, except-

"You've got to be kidding me," Vandal snarled.

There was one new email in the inbox and it was from Lizzy's account at the clinic. When he opened it, it was empty. All that was filled out was the subject line and it simply said, 'I'm sorry.'

He didn't reply to it. He deleted it and prayed that he would never have to see her face or hear her voice again.

The hour of quiet was over way too fast. He heard the door to the blood bank upstairs fall shut and their voices carried down as indistinct noise. He got up and opened the booth's door. He waited, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

It didn't take Bill and Phil two seconds to realize they had fucked up somehow, when they saw him, eyeing them like prey as they came down the hallway.

"Good morning," Vandal sneered when they came to a halt two feet from him. He shifted his weight and stood straight. "Though I have to say that's a vast overstatement on my part with what I was greeted with in the drawers earlier today." He took a step towards them and lowered his voice. "The two of you are making more work for me than I would have running the blood bank alone." His eyes went to Bill. "The top two drawers… Were you responsible for putting the last delivery of supplies away?"

"I was, yes," Bill answered.

"Because I found a tangled mess of tubes in them. Tell me how that happened," he demanded.

"What?" Bill looked surprised. "I put them in the drawers exactly like they were delivered."

"You're telling me, they were like this when you got them out of the parcel?" Vandal questioned.

"Yes!"

Vandal saw Bill was telling the truth, but it didn't make it better. In fact, it made it worse. "Then, WHY didn't you REPORT that to me?!"

"You told me, I was to put them in the drawers exactly like I found them in the packages," Bill defended himself.

"I did. I also showed you how they were supposed to look when you take them out," Vandal stated.

"I know, but I thought that-"

Bill didn't get to finish his sentence. Vandal's voice was like a knife slashing through the air. "This is one of those times where you're NOT supposed to think about it and just TELL ME!"

Bill winced at his tone.

Vandal ordered, "You're going to fix this mess, because now I can't just send them back as faulty delivery. I don't care how long it takes you. You'll not break a single of those tubes. Did I make myself clear?"

"Yes. I'll get to it immediately," Bill answered, clearly uncomfortable under the gaze Vandal had intensely fixed on him.

"Good. You can go now." Bill left and he turned to Phil, who looked ready to bolt. "Now for you. What do you 'think' my other problem with these drawers was. Not just the first two."

Phil wrung his hands nervously. His eyes quickly flicked to Vandal's face and then back to the ground again. Phil always took a few moments to collect his scattered thoughts.

Vandal sighed and leaned against the wall. Phil wouldn't be able to get a coherent thought into his head if he didn't lay off a bit. He glowered at the ceiling, but he didn't need to see to know that Phil had immediately relaxed a bit as soon as his eyes had left him.

"I forgot to refill the disinfectant," Phil spoke.

At least he now remembered what he had forgotten. It was a step in the right direction.

"Correct," Vandal said, his voice neutral. "Where do you get them again?" He still didn't look at Phil again.

"Upstairs. The storage room is opposite to Malcolm's office. I will go and get them. I'm sorry, Vandal."

"You don't need to get them, Phil. I already went," Vandal told him. He had noted a change in Phil's voice. It almost seemed like he was less distracted, more focussed. And he had remembered instantly.

"Oh, thank you. Was there anything else I forgot?" Phil wanted to know.

"No," Vandal said. This was actually interesting. He continued to look at the ceiling and addressed him, "I have a question for you Phil. Not work related actually." He waited for Phil's go ahead to ask on purpose.

"Oh, sure. Ask away."

Yes, even his replies came faster. "Does it distract you when you make eye contact with people during conversations? Because it seems to me that even just someone looking at you while speaking to you causes you to lose focus." Vandal had to force himself not to glance in his direction. To him it felt so strange not to do it.

Phil's reply was once again almost instantaneous. He sounded embarrassed though. "Yes. I don't know why but I can't concentrate, I get overwhelmed and I can't think clearly."

"It feels strange," Vandal told him. "I am literally forcing myself not to look at you right now. Do you automatically just focus on your feet when you talk to someone and are forcing yourself to look up at people?" He was genuinely interested to know.

"Yes. Or anything other than their faces."

"Well, you know what. I think we will try this. I don't think your memory's the problem. It's the fact that you can't process what was said to you when you're having a sensory overload," Vandal grinned. "This will be one hell of a thing for me to adjust to. Phil, you're free to stare at your shoes when speaking to me and I will make sure to only occasionally glance at you when I'm talking to you." He checked Phil's face. His eyes were indeed not on him, but focussed on a spot next to him on the wall. He was actually looking like he was happy with the outcome of their talk.

"Thanks, Vandal."

"Well, let's go then." Vandal entered the booth again followed by Phil.

It took Bill over 2 hours to untangle the mess in the drawers. Each time someone came in to donate, Vandal had had a chance to check on Bill's progress. He had not broken a single tube. Vandal could hardly believe it.

"Okay, I gotta say, I'm impressed." Vandal hardly ever had a word of thanks to offer, neither was he one to say a lot of kind words, so whenever he did, they knew he meant it.

"It took quite a while and a lot of patience," Bill said, turning to him. "Next time I see anything other than you showed me I'll come running. Man, that was slave work. I hated every second!"

"Well, good!" Vandal smirked.

Phil called from down the hall, "Danny needs a bag of AB Res positive!"

Bill volunteered to bring it. "Coming right up!" He left for the freezers.

Vandal checked the drawers again and to his immense satisfaction, everything was now in order. He could now go back to email hell.

It turned out that today was not in fact email, but phone hell day. After the 5th old lady accidentally dialing the wrong number and wanting to reach the clinic upstairs, he was ready to scream again.

Thankfully time was ticking away rather quickly and when he next checked the clock again it was already 2 PM. Phil and Bill had already taken their breaks and he had pushed his own back extremely late.

He got his phone from the locker and sat down in the break room. Hannah had already texted him.

'Just got out of that fuckface's apartment. Holy shit. I hope you're doing better than me. How I wish I could just take a blowtorch and burn that man's dick to a crisp. Xo Hannah.'

Vandal silently laughed. Even Hannah's texts were entertaining. The best thing about this was probably the fact that she had signed it with a hug and a kiss right after talking about burning some guy's penis like a barbecue sausage.

He replied, 'Well, sorry to inform you that my day isn't going so great either. I was ready to drain some random co-worker who was acting like she was my best friend. And that was only after the people I actually work with had fucked up by not replacing and leaving supplies in a horrendous state… Need ketchup for your imaginary sausage?'

It didn't take more than 30 seconds for Hannah to answer, 'Haha! I'd rather starve to death than eat that! Oh my god, we should make HIM eat it. Omg, that's the worst punishment imaginable. Make a man eat his own cock! If he refuses, he dies.'

'You're so so much like me, and I love it! Imagine the look on his face when he realizes it's either that or dying. I wonder if he'd chose to die over eating it…' Vandal replied.

'I seriously think he'd eat it. Haha! That shit's too attached to his life not to.'

'Or maybe he'd feel so worthless without it that he'd prefer the void over a life of constant humiliation and the loss of his dignity.'

'So what would you do?' Hannah wanted to know.

'Well, I can still kiss you even without my manhood. That's just as enjoyable. So I'd definitely eat it rather than die.'

'Aw, even when we're talking about making you eat your own willy you're still nice to me.'

'Of course, princess,' he wrote with a smile on his lips.

'I get off next stop. I'll see you the day after tomorrow. I can't wait! Hope your day's not gonna be all bullshit.'

'I can't wait either! Same goes for yours. See ya.'

He put his phone away again, still grinning. His peace lasted for about half an hour longer before Phil's voice ripped him out of his dozing. It was coming from down the hall and he sounded concerned. He was calling for Bill.

A loud bang had Vandal rise from the chair. What the 'hell' was going on?! Couldn't he ever get an entire hour of his break done without any interruptions in this place?

Irritated he went down the hallways back to the booth. Bill came almost running down from the opposite direction.

"What the hell is going on?!" Vandal hissed and it was accompanied by the same loud banging.

Somebody seemed to be slamming their fists into the glass of the donation window from what he could tell. The sound fit.

"Calm down!" It was Phil. He sounded panicked.

Vandal threw open the door to the booth and stopped in his tracks halfway into entering. Bill looked over his shoulder behind him.

The window was smeared with streaks of blood. There was a young woman. Her arms were bleeding. She had cut the words 'Need Fix' into the left and 'Burn Blood' into her right. She kept banging her fists into the window.

"Help me!" she howled. "Need to get FIXED!"

Vandal stared at her. It was the redhead that had disappeared from the clinic about a bit over a month ago. How was she alive? She should be dead. She had been bleeding out, her organs had been ruptured. This was impossible!

"I think that one slipped away from the third floor," Bill said, looking completely shell shocked.

She hadn't. But maybe it was a good idea to place her there. She was nuts.

Vandal remembered her name from when he had hacked into the system to check her status. She was Heather Poe.

He stepped towards the window and Heather's eyes snapped to him. They were bright green, almost as light as his.

"Make the voices STOP!" She broke into laughter. "You're already as mad as me! You'll get worse!"

That woman was bat shit crazy. He held her gaze and spoke, calmly, "Heather. Your name is Heather, right?"

Phil stared at him, then looked away and said, "Wait is she the patient who disappeared from her room on the first floor?"

Vandal nodded.

"YES! I WAITED in AGONY for FOREVER! I SHOULD be DEAD! I don't know who saved me, but whoever did, LEFT ME, like EVERYONE ELSE!" Heather was switching between screaming and compulsively laughing. "Whatever was done to me, I want it to GO AWAY! Something's in my veins! BURN MY BLOOD! ALL OF IT! DRAIN IT! OR GIVE ME A FIX!"

She was acting like an insane addict with withdrawal symptoms.

Bill was the first to act. He reached for the phone. "I'm calling third floor. Let them take care of this."

Vandal made sure to keep Heather talking. "You just vanished from the hospital. The person who saved you, was that before or after you left?"

"Should just kill you, kill you, kill you all for what you did," Heather sang. "This guy came into my room. I don't remember clearly. I was slipping in and out of consciousness. He had brown spiky hair. He tended my wounds. I left when I felt better."

Everything she was saying sounded insane. She had been gone after 20 minutes. Someone must have seen said guy enter the clinic then. Or it had just been a hallucination on her part. It still didn't explain how Heather had gotten better though. Because she was right. She had cheated death somehow.

Bill let him know, "Someone's coming. They said they need a blood sample from her."

This was the fucking worst.

"Okay, Heather," Vandal spoke soothingly. "I wanna help you. You said there's something in your blood?"

It seemed to calm Heather that he was listening and not pushing her away. "Yes, it's burning me up from inside. It's painful."

"How long have your heard voices?" he wanted to know.

"I don't know. I think they started after I got better," Heather breathed.

"Would you let me take a sample of your blood, Heather? We can find out what's wrong with you if we analyze it," he gently said.

Heather nodded. "Yes." Then she suddenly shouted, "NO! SHUT UP! I'm NOT listening to YOU! I want it GONE!"

The three of them in the booth stared on as Heather started crying and banging her fists and then her head into the window repeatedly. She kept screeching, "Leave me alone! Don't tell me what to DO! I can decide for MYSELF! I'll KILL YOU ALL!" And then she was laughing again.

"Can't we fucking sedate her?!" Phil asked.

Unfortunately they couldn't. Vandal wanted to get a clean sample of her blood. Whatever the fuck was going on with that nut job was nothing he'd ever seen before.

"Heather?" Vandal asked and her gaze focussed on him again. "I'll come out into the hallway to you. Is that ok?"

"Are you insane?!" Bill questioned. "You shouldn't go out there. Who know what she'll do!"

Vandal smirked. "I'll be fine."

He opened the door and went into the hallway, slowly. Heather's eyes followed him.

"Why don't you come with me? You can sit down in one of the chairs in the donation section and catch your breath. You must be exhausted." He smiled at her and pointed down the hallway. "It's down there."

Heather hesitated.

"It's ok," Vandal reassured her. "I'm not going to hurt you. I want to help." He carefully stepped closer and rolled up the sleeve of his shirt. "Look." He held out the arm with the scar to her. "I've been there." He hadn't but it didn't matter.

Heather eyed the scar and then looked at her own arms. "I don't really remember doing that to myself."

"Your hands just moved on their own, didn't they? I know how that is," he told her. He was taking guesses on Heather's behavior. He couldn't possibly know what was going on with her.

Heather nodded. "Yes. I really want to get better. I think something is seriously wrong. I shouldn't even be here in the first place. I need help."

"I'll help you," Vandal repeated. "Let me take your blood. We can find out what's wrong and then we can focus on getting you back to normal." He started walking down the hallway and Heather stepped to the side to let him pass. She followed him, occasionally laughing to herself.

Vandal kept an eye on her. He noted that she had cold sweat running down her forehead. Her hands were shaking slightly.

His imagination was running wild. It would be so easy to try and drain her. If only Phil and Bill hadn't seen her. She had already been screaming at the top of her lungs to get her blood drained. All of it in fact. What a crying shame he couldn't just do it. He was so curious. So intrigued by the idea.

They entered the donation section and Vandal gestured for Heather to take a seat while he went to the drawer and pulled out a pack of disinfectant wipes, a tourniquet, needle and a collection tube. He went on to label it. He put on gloves and disinfected his hands. Heather was already seated when he turned to her.

"Okay, Heather. Please stay calm. I'll explain what I'm going to do before actually doing it, ok?"

Heather once again nodded. "Okay."

He slowly went over and asked her to put her right arm onto the armrest of the chair. "I'll tie a tourniquet and then I'll look for a vein to draw blood from. Then I'll disinfect the area and after that's done, I'll drive the needle into your vein. The pain's minor."

He worked and Heather was surprisingly docile. She didn't complain, she didn't have any more insane fits and everything seemed fine.

Heather was watching her blood fill the tube and she was quietly humming, "Blood, blood, blood. It smells metallic. It warms me up from inside. I need it to FIX ME!" He voice had increased in volume for the last two words. Her speech became frantic. "Burn the blood, burn it! You have to burn it! Use up all of it until there's nothing left in me!"

She wasn't trashing, not yet, but he needed her to stay calm or she could accidentally break off the needle in her arm.

"Heather, we're almost done," Vandal spoke. "Please stay calm and clear your head. Take a deep breath."

To his surprise, Heather complied. "Fucking voices. They're screaming, I can't just ignore them. They're coming from all directions. They're not inside my head actually. It's like having a bunch of people circling around you, always talking."

That was interesting. He had always assumed that they were just in your head, very similar to when you were thinking. He hadn't thought they were perceived as outside sounds, like actual people talking to you.

"I'm sorry to hear that. We'll get you better," Vandal told her. He removed the tourniquet and pulled out the needle, then sealed the tube. "We're done. Let's get back to the front, ok?"

Heather complacently followed him back out without a word.

"Someone will take you upstairs to the third floor, Heather," Vandal explained. "We still have all your data, so you don't need to worry about any of the paperwork right now. They will probably have you stay in your own room here at the clinic for the rest of the day and maybe tomorrow."

Heather looked at him with her bright green eyes. "That's ok. I'll just have to call Grandma some time later. Bet she's worried."

And that was when he noticed that she wasn't carrying anything with her but the keys to her apartment from as far as he could tell. She was in a yellow tank top and skinny jeans. The keys were in her right pocket.

"That's no problem."

At the donation window a tall, dark skinned guy from the mental ward was already waiting for them.

"Hello, Heather," he greeted her. He turned to Vandal, who had the collection tube in hand. "Ah, wonderful. Thank you so much. By the way I'm Mike."

Vandal gave him a nod. "I'll bring it upstairs myself for testing."

"Will you accompany us to Heather's room?" Mike wanted to know.

"Yes." The answer had left his mouth before he even knew why. Why was he coming WITH THEM?! It was on the way, yes, but why the hell did he think this was a good idea? This was STUPID. The rational part of his brain was screaming at him not to waste his time, while his gut was telling him the opposite.

And with that, he followed Mike and Heather while his head was trying to rationalize his decision the whole way there.

Heather's room on the third floor was number 309. Before they let her stay however, Heather had to relieve herself of various things that she could use to harm herself with. Belt, keys and shoe laces were some of them. Mike had someone lock them up for safe keeping.

Heather turned to him before she entered and spoke, "Thank you. I'm sure I'll see you again some time. So, see ya."

Vandal felt the corners of his mouth twitch. "Bye, Heather." He turned and left both her and Mike standing there. He headed for the wing where they performed the blood tests.

This part of the clinic was poorly lit and had a gloomy atmosphere to it. He was greeted by a security guard, who let him in.

Exactly one person worked the lab. A middle aged man named Brian.

"Heather Poe's blood sample," Vandal simply said and handed it to him.

"So what the fuck that she just turns up again." Brian shook his head like he couldn't believe that had happened.

"I think she was drugged or something and on top of that she seems seriously mentally ill. Might even be Schizophrenia, as far as I could tell. She was hallucinating and I don't think that was drug induced, but what do I know," Vandal grumbled.

"Well, I'll check for all possible causes," Brian informed him.

Vandal nodded. "I'll get going again."

"Jup."

He was already out the door and Brian's reply went unheard.

Downstairs, Phil had cleaned the window. He and Bill were in the booth together and when Vandal entered Phil was just saying, "I'm sure she'll hear about it. I'm certain she'll come in either tomorrow evening or the evening after."

Vandal let out a disapproving sound. He knew Phil was talking about Miss Voerman. "If she does, she won't find anything to bitch about like she had when she was talking to Dr. Thornton. She'll be in and out in less than five minutes." His tone had held a warning for them not to fuck up again.

Phil had indeed noted. "Of course, Vandal. We'll be double checking that the workplace is in excellent condition."

Very good.

The last hour until his shift ended wasn't all too bad. No one called and the emails had been at a minimum today. It didn't take long to reply to them and he spent his time talking with Bill and Phil. Ten minutes before he left he checked the schedule for the next day. It was Bill's day off. He'd be alone with Phil. Luckily it was the shortest work day where the blood bank only opened for 4 hours.

He got his things and checked his phone again. As Hannah had promised, he was greeted by a wall of text. He quickly flew over it on his way upstairs. Apparently Hannah's third appointment had been just as bad as the one with the guy whose dick she had wanted to incinerate. The paragraph about it contained a lot of swear words and insults. The most used was a combination of both. Fucking asshole. Right after repeatedly stating how much she abhorred the guy.

When he had gone through everything and was on the bus he texted back. All he wrote was, 'Do you need me to get you a blowtorch? I will do it.'

Hannah didn't text back until he was actually at home, had eaten dinner and was lying stretched out on the sofa.

'Aw, thanks! Maybe. I'll think about it and let you know. How was your day?'

He sent a wall of text back, not leaving out any details and ended it with what had happened with Heather. He was glad to see that when Hannah replied once more, she was on the same page as him about the incident with Lizzy early in the morning.

They spent some more time texting until Hannah said that she had to go in to meet her next client.

Vandal turned on the TV.

The news reporter was babbling on about a recent discovery of some new form of octopus inhabiting the waters of Rhode Island. Then about actor Ash Rivers crashing his car into the front gate of Parasite studios and apparently emerging from it unscathed. And over to the same old politics and world news.

He switched through the channels and as expected, he didn't find anything interesting on, for it was still too early. The things he liked to watch usually weren't family friendly at all and ran late at night. So he rose from the sofa again to get the book he'd been reading. It was Cell by Stephen King. So far it had been a really good read. The book had started out with 2 women talking on their phones and then going completely nuts. Within the first 10 pages of the book he had already been hooked. The writing was great and it was immediately action packed. He disliked books where the author spent the first 100 pages setting up the scene and slowly leading the reader into the world he was creating. He would probably finish the whole thing this evening if he didn't get distracted. He was rather quick at reading.

He was an hour into it when his phone buzzed again and Hannah texted.

'Do get that blowtorch. XO Hannah.'

Vandal laughed out loud. The look on her face when he would actually show up with one. He did own one. It was why he had suggested it. He had never used it. It was brand new. He just needed to find it in one of the still not unpacked moving boxes.

'You'll have it when we meet up, princess.'

'Wonderful! Then I'll flambe some bananas for dessert!'

'Are we still metaphorically speaking or are you actually planning to make dinner at my place?' he asked.

'Yeah, dinner at yours. Main course and dessert. Haven't cooked for anyone in such a long time. You do eat bananas, right?'

He replied with a smile on his face. Hannah was really something. 'I do, yes. The main course is a surprise, or…?'

'I haven't quite decided on that. We could just go food shopping together, how about it?'

'Then we'll do that, princess. I'm looking forward to it. And you're not cooking alone. I'm helping.'

'Aww! Can't wait. Have a lovely evening, Vandal.'

'Thank you. I hope yours won't be too bad, princess.'

'It should be fine. Xo Hannah.'

Vandal did like cooking. From looking at him, you wouldn't expect that. He liked eating healthy. He had spent most of his time living at home eating instant food and frozen dinners. His time at College hadn't been much better. It had only been after he had moved to Santa Monica that he had really had the time to get into it.

He put the phone back down and spent the remainder of the evening with his head buried in the book.

When he checked the time next it was almost 12 and Hannah would be out the door of her last client.

He wrote her, 'Princess. I hope you get home fine. Sleep well. I'm off to bed now.'

Ten minutes later she answered, 'You're so nice! Good night, Vandal. I will. Sweet dreams.'

'Good night, princess. Sweet dreams.'

He went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, chucked all his clothes into the dirty laundry basket and went to bed. He was one of those 8 percent of people who slept nude, even in winter. It suited him well. He was always hot anyway and being naked allowed his body to cool down properly.

It didn't take him long to fall asleep. He was out within a few minutes. The last thoughts that slipped into his head weren't quite clear. They were conjured at the edge of sleep and rather unwelcome. Those were the ones he could never make sense of because they came as blurred sounds and images. They were always unsettling. He felt like someone was in the room, watching him, before feeling like falling through the mattress when the darkness swallowed him, dragging him into the void of nothingness.

He would not sleep well tonight.

* * *

Notes:

This chapter is quite a bit shorter than the first, but I hope you enjoyed it regardless.  
Again, I am aware the procedures at the clinic aren't depicted quite accurately, but this is a work of fiction, so please bear with it.


	4. Unknown to the Beholder

Chapter 3: Unknown to the Beholder

Vandal was lying flat on his back and opened his eyes. He felt the panic rise inside him when he tried to move and couldn't. From the corner of his eyes he could see a tall figure standing at the edge of his bed, looming over him. A second was in the corner of the room directly opposite to him, slowly walking up to the foot of the bed. His pulse sped up twice as fast than it had already been going. He wanted to fight it, but he knew it was useless. He could not move, no matter how much he wished he could. His waking thoughts, mixed with the hallucinations of his dreams, in conjunction with the inability to move were the most terrifying things he had ever experienced up to this date. It didn't matter than he went through it a couple times a month. It was just as horrific every single time. Vandal had never been one to scare easy, and he thought nothing in real life could ever even come close to inducing the raw terror he was experiencing in these moments.

The figure had reached the foot of the bed and was climbing onto it. Vandal would have screamed if he could have. They never touched him, but they always came close enough to be able to. The figure to his side was also closing in on him. His vision was filling with the black smoke the figures seemed to be emitting.

He felt tears running down the sides of his face. The things he was seeing were always similar to this. Details changed, but the general gist of it was that something was there with him, while he was completely helpless. It was the fucking worst. He hated it. It would haunt him for a few hours. He rarely managed to shake the visions and the feeling from his mind as quickly as he'd liked.

They hung over him, whispering to him. He could never make out words, but the sound alone was enough. He felt the threat in their voices.

It lasted for what felt like hours, but he knew it had only been a minute or so. When his thoughts finally cleared and the hallucinations faded from his mind, the control of his body also came back.

Vandal took a steadying breath and slowly sat up. His heart was still racing.

He checked the time.

"Fuck." He had woken way before his alarm and he knew he would not be able to fall asleep again now.

"Calm down," he told himself. Speaking the words aloud usually helped him focus. "Everything's fine. Just breathe, slowly."

He pulled his knees up, rested his chin on them and wrapped his arms around his legs. He remained like that for over five minutes, just concentrating on the rise and fall of his chest.

With every outbreath he forced his muscles to relax further until all the tension in him was gone and he finally felt able to get up from the bed.

He was glad he only had to work for 4 hours today. He didn't think he could have handled more after his episode of sleep paralysis.

He took his time in the bathroom, running an extra long, hot shower. It was the only time he turned up the temperature. It washed away the rest of the cold fear that seemed to linger in the back of his head.

After getting dressed he went on to make coffee, then got a single slice of bread and ate it with some ham on it. He wasn't hungry, less so than usual. And now he still had an hour to kill before his alarm would even have gone off.

Still sipping coffee he unlocked his phone and texted Hannah. He hoped she had her phone on silent.

'You jinxed it, princess. No more wishing me sweet dreams.' Because they had been all over the place. He hadn't rested well and the sleep paralysis on top of it had given him the rest.

He didn't quite know what to do with himself right now. He turned on the TV just to find there was nothing on to watch during the morning hours but reruns of old shows or infomercials. He was not in the mood to start a new book after he had finished the one yesterday. Finding new stuff to read always took him a while.

So he just sat there, staring into his coffee cup, while sipping away at it and waiting to go to work.

Vandal unlocked the entrance to the blood bank. Phil was manning the reception. He wondered if anyone even came in to donate today. He prayed that nobody did. He felt off still.

In fact he was so off, that even Phil noticed. When he came back into the booth he asked Vandal, "Are you alright?"

He shook his head. "I didn't sleep well. I woke up way too early. My head feels foggy and even the coffee didn't help."

"Oh man. I'm sorry to hear that," Phil said. It sounded sincere. "I can't fall asleep without medication."

That surprised Vandal. It was such a minute detail, but also personal. They really never had spoken about themselves in the two months Phil had worked down here. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

They both didn't really talk much at all and it was fine with Vandal. He sat down in front of the computer and Phil dragged a chair to the donation window and took a seat.

"I'll take donations today. There won't be many anyway," Phil let him know.

Vandal nodded. "Ok. Just let me know if there's anyone you can't handle."

Phil had a tendency to miss the vein he wanted to draw from when they weren't visible enough or simply too thin. "I will."

Time was passing incredibly slow. It had been 2 hours since they had opened, but they had felt like 5. It was awful. Vandal's concentration was down the drain. He was re-reading the email he had opened for the second time now. Why was he still so shaken up? He usually wasn't this bad, even when he hadn't gotten a lot of sleep.

The email he couldn't quite process was from Mike, telling him to come upstairs because apparently, Heather wanted to see him. Why the fuck did she want to see him? And why the fuck was Mike WRITING to HIM about it? He couldn't just leave. What the hell was wrong with the staff at the clinic?

Vandal composed a curt and quite rude reply.

'I can't just up and leave, Mike. I'm alone with Phil down here! I don't have a break today. Blood bank's only open for 4 hours. You SHOULD know that!'

A minute later, the phone rang.

"Yes?" The display had said, 'third floor', so he didn't bother even stating his name. He knew who it was anyway.

"Can you come in after your shift ended?" Mike wanted to know.

He seriously hadn't just asked that? The answer was NO.

"I got stuff to do," Vandal replied coldly.

"Please man, it won't take long! She won't shut up about it. She's driving everyone crazy!" Mike pleaded. "She 'ripped' the bed in her room apart when we told her it would be better not to see anyone right now. She's worse than when she came in yesterday from what Bill told me."

He didn't give a fuck. All he wanted was to get the day over with and go back to sleep.

"That's not really my problem," Vandal huffed. "You guys were trained to deal with stuff like this."

"Yes, exactly! That's why we need you to come, so she calms the fuck down again." There was a loud crashing sound in the background, followed by Mike's shocked gasp. "Heather?! How the hell did you get out of the room?" A pause, then, "Heather, put down the chair. What are you doing?" Another crash, accompanied by Mike yelping.

Heather screamed loud enough that Vandal heard her on the phone. "I WILL GO DOWN THERE! BRING THE GUY WHO TOOK MY BLOOD, OR I WILL GO DOWN THERE TO SEE HIM MYSELF!" She sounded ready to kill over it. "Who are you on the phone with?" Heather asked sweetly.

Vandal heard Mike's voice, but it was quieter, it almost seemed to him like he had dropped the phone. "The guy you want to see so bad." Mike was breathing heavy. He sounded like he was in pain. Had Heather actually thrown the chair at him?

She had picked up the phone from the floor and said, "I dreamt of you."

Vandal shook his head. What the hell? "Hello, Heather." He ignored her statement and instead wanted to know, "Did you hurt Mike?" Not that he really cared even if she had.

Heather giggled. "Yes. He deserved it. Told me it'd be better not to see you. He doesn't know shit."

Vandal was starting to like this deranged death cheater. This was actually funny. "I agree."

"Can you come? Pretty please," Heather purred. "I'll not hurt 'you'. I promise."

As if she could even if she tried.

"Fine, I'll come, but it'll have to wait until my shift is over. I can't leave here right now. Hang in there for two more hours, ok?"

"Yes, yes!" She sounded so happy. She sounded ecstatic. "I'll try to behave now. I'll see you later."

And with that she had handed the phone back to Mike, who grumbled, "Thank you. I'll pick you up at the entrance. We put her wing under lockdown."

"All right. Be there in two hours." He hung up.

Phil had a look of confusion on his face when Vandal turned to him.

"What the fuck was that?" Phil questioned. "Did they just put that woman from yesterday on the phone with you? That's against the rules."

Vandal laughed, "Mike was forced, more or less. And who here in this entire hospital gives a crap about the rules? You know a lot better than me what's going on on the first floor alone."

Phil pulled a face. "Yeah. You're right. Security here alone is a joke. I know we both hacked into the system before. How else would you have known Heather's name yesterday."

Phil was indeed correct. "And you checked her entire log file, or you wouldn't have known she disappeared, because you were already working down here when that happened."

Phil nodded. "Exactly."

A thought formed in Vandal's head and it made him smirk. "I bet we could sell half the blood we get from donations on the black market and nobody would ever know."

"Probably." Phil didn't even look uncomfortable or put off by the suggestion. "If you're clever enough about it you wouldn't even get caught."

Oh, this conversation was turning out to be glorious.

Vandal smiled wider. "All I have to do is methodically mess with the inventory. No one would be able to trace that back to any of us. I mean, the first floor makes medication vanish. And I seem to be the only one noticing, because I asked about it and everyone was clueless. But I don't give a shit either way."

"Except me," Phil admitted. "And since you don't care, I guess it's fine to let you know that that was me. The sleep meds, that is."

"Hacked in and changed inventory?" Vandal asked.

"Jup, couldn't believe how easy it was," he grinned.

"Well, good on you! I wouldn't want to pay for them either," he laughed. He really didn't care Phil was stealing from the clinic. Quite the opposite. Phil had a spine after all.

"Phil, if we ever get bored or short on cash, let's sell blood on the black market," Vandal suggested.

"Sure, why not."

Vandal was glad he had been looking at him when he said it. He was serious. He would actually do it. He stood up and walked over to him, holding out his hand. "Deal?"

Phil took it. "Deal."

Vandal didn't know it at that moment, but he had just set a spiral of events into motion.

And eventually, they would be his downfall.

He sat down again and leaned back in his chair. "Well, that's that out of the way. We got nothing to do until someone shows up to part with some of their blood."

"I'll make coffee. You want some?"

"Yeah."

The door fell shut behind Phil and the phone rang again the second it did. This time, it wasn't anyone from the clinic.

Vandal begrudgingly picked it up.

"Santa Monica Medical Clinic. You've reached the blood bank. How can I help you?" Vandal recited without even having to think.

"Good morning. This is Miss Therese Voerman. I need to speak to Mister Cleaver."

Vandal cursed silently. Just his luck.

"You're speaking to him," he replied flatly.

Miss Voerman ignored his lack of respect and spoke, "Wonderful. I would like for you to meet me at the blood bank tonight at around 9 PM. I heard of the girl that had been admitted to the mental ward the day before. The one who had been in for treatment about a month ago."

Why she needed to speak to HIM about this was beyond his comprehension. It was already annoying him. Worse was that he now had to come back to the blood bank in the evening after his shift had ended AND he had been up to see Heather. He didn't think it could get any worse.

"I will be there," Vandal said, not even hiding the irritation in his voice. "But you might be better off speaking to Mike about this. He is the one now responsible for Heather."

"Oh no, it'll be fine," Miss Voerman spoke quite happily. "I'll see you later, Mister Cleaver."

"Until then, Miss Voerman." He hung up the phone for the second time today and let out a growl.

For an instant he wondered what would happen if he just didn't turn up. He couldn't think of a single good reason for Miss Voerman needing to speak to 'him' about this whole thing with Heather. He was just the guy who had taken the blood sample. The only thing that she might be interested in was what Heather had been rambling on about, but then again, why the hell would she care? She could care less. He didn't understand and it pissed him off. This was going to be such a waste of time. He hoped that Miss Voerman would interrogate the staff upstairs as well after she was done with him. But from what she had said, it hadn't sounded like it.

Phil returned with two cups of coffee a few minutes after. Vandal thankfully took a sip and said, frustrated, "You were right. Miss Voerman heard about it. I just had the pleasure to speak to her. She's coming in tonight and for whatever reason, she wants to have a chat with me when she does."

Phil's eyebrows drew together. He didn't understand either. It made no sense. "I'm not even gonna ask why. Man, I wouldn't want to be in your shoes. That's just bad luck. First Heather, now Miss Voerman. Damn."

"Bad luck is an understatement. I feel like someone cursed me," Vandal growled.

It took quite a while before their unofficial coffee break was interrupted by a knock on the donation window. Phil stood up and went to check who it was.

"Uhm," he made.

Just that one sound was enough for Vandal to go see for himself. And indeed. Uhm, was an appropriate response to who they found standing there.

"Brian?" Vandal asked with a raised eyebrow.

What was wrong today? Brian 'never' left his lab. It was like he didn't even exist. If someone didn't know the clinic had one, they would never find out about it, or Brian, because he never showed up anywhere. He was like a ghost, or had been until now.

He was holding a folder with Heather Poe's medical records. "There were traces of 'something' left in her blood. I got no idea what I was seeing. It seems to be some kind of weird anomaly. Whatever it is, it is screwing with my results. You didn't sedate her before taking it, right?"

Vandal pursed his lips. "I did not. I got a clean sample, Brian. I take my work seriously."

"Well, shit. I'm so sorry. I need another for cross reference. Can you get one?"

"Right now? Are you really asking me to call upstairs, to drag that lunatic down here so I can take her blood again?" Vandal spoke, but his tone was indifferent. If she went down here to see him now, and with a solid reason to boot, it would spare him the visit after his shift ended.

"Yes, sorry for the inconvenience."

"Fine, whatever. She was screaming to see me on top of her lungs earlier anyway," Vandal sneered.

Brian blinked. "Why?"

"How should I know?!" Irritated, he turned away from the window and pressed the speed dial button for the third floor.

"Mental ward, Mike here."

"Hello again," Vandal said. "Brian left his lab, just to tell me that he needed to get Heather down here so I could take another sample. Can you bring her?"

Mike didn't sound amused in the least. "Fuck and we just got her back to her room, too. Well, fine. I'll be there in about 5 minutes."

"Thanks." He turned back to Brian. "He said 5 minutes. You gonna stay here, or are you scurrying back to your lab?"

"I'll wait here to get the second sample off your hands," Brian let him know. "Anyone come in here today?"

"No."

"Well, not surprising," Brian murmured. "Did Miss Voerman call you too?"

"She did. Got no idea what the hell she wants from me either. She want to meet with you in the evening too?" Vandal wanted to know.

"No, but she was asking a lot of questions about the blood sample," Brian told him. "She said she'd 'take it off my hands'."

"Weird that she'd care," Vandal said. It was suspicious.

"Maybe she had a relative who went through something like this? Who knows?" Brian theorized.

Vandal didn't believe it for one second. Something fishy was going on and it smelled like trouble. He couldn't say why but he felt like he was being set up somehow. He felt strange. This entire scenario was causing him to be on high alert.

Phil saved him from answering, by asking Brian if he wanted to have a cup of coffee and wait in the break room. He accepted and both of them were out of his face.

Phil had just come back when Vandal could hear Heather laughing from upstairs before he even heard the footsteps on the stairs.

Mike looked like shit. Heather had seriously hurt him. He had been bleeding from a wound on the left side of his head. He looked like he had been in a car crash. Heather was beside him, smiling and giggling like a high schooler who was seeing her crush when they approached him.

"Hi," Heather grinned and came to a halt in front of him.

"Hello, Heather," he grinned back. "Sorry to have to poke you again. Brian needs another sample."

"Ok." Heather looked way too happy at the prospect of having another needle inserted into her. "Lead the way."

He did. Heather followed him and when they were alone in the donation section and she had sat down, Vandal said, "Same deal as yesterday. You remember, right?"

Heather placed her right arm on the armrest. The cuts spelling 'Burn Blood' looked really bad still. They would scar worse than the one he had. "I remember." She noted that he was looking at the letters she had carved into her skin. "I think I cut down to the bone, it hurt so bad, but I didn't care."

She couldn't possibly have cut that deep. She would have hit arteries and bled out rather quickly if that had been the case.

Vandal tied the tourniquet and looked for a vein, like the day before and listened as Heather continued, "The two faced bitch wants to see you later, right? I heard Mike on the phone with her earlier. She was asking about me."

Two faced bitch? Was that what she had nicknamed Miss Voerman? Bitch was right, yeah.

"Yes. And I'm just left wondering why she's so interested in you," Vandal grumbled, as he disinfected the area and drove in the needle.

"I don't know," Heather sighed. She looked at her blood running into the tube. "But she's coming for us both, I can feel it."

She made it sound ominous. Vandal didn't like it. Something in her tone had just been 'wrong'.

"It'll be fine," Vandal told her, and didn't quite know why he was even trying to comfort her. He removed the tourniquet and pulled out the needle, before sealing the tube.

"Vandal?"

The single use of his name made him start. He hadn't told her and nobody had used it in her presence. How did she know?

His eyes narrowed as his gaze fixed intensely on her. "Yes?"

"We're both so fucked," she laughed as if it was the funniest thing in the world.

It wasn't funny to him. Quite the contrary. He was unsettled. He didn't know why, but his intuition told him that Heather was right.

"How so?" Why was he asking questions that had no answers?

Heather breathed and leaned so close that he could feel her breath on his face. "We'll end up broken. More broken than we already were. Broken beyond repair. We'll just suffer, for all eternity."

Why were her words freaking him out? They made no goddamn sense and still they made him uneasy. He blamed his lack of sleep and the still lingering effects of the sleep paralysis for his irrational reaction to this.

"Get out of my face," he snapped at her.

Heather 'smiled' at him. "You should get used to having me near you…" And then she leaned back.

Mike had been right, she was even more insane than yesterday.

"You're my new antidepressant," Heather giggled. "You're fun to be around."

Vandal stared at her.

"Maybe it won't be so bad to be broken after all," she mused. "We can share the pain of it."

What the fucking hell? He didn't even want to know what she was on about or what was happening in her head right now.

"Come on, we're done," Vandal said with a jerk of his head and moved down the hallway.

Heather caught up and walked beside him. "Did you like what I did to Brian?" she asked him, her tone normal again.

Vandal let out a short laugh. "Absolutely."

"I bet they're now banning chairs from my wing too. But that's ok. They still got tables," she grinned. "I can just grab someone and SMACK their head into the edge of it." She mimicked the motion with her hands.

"You might wanna be careful, or they'll put you in a padded cell."

"I thought they were out of style," Heather laughed. "Maybe they'll buy me a jacket."

When she wasn't spouting like a lunatic, she was actually entertaining, Vandal thought.

"No, I think that's even less likely than the cell," he let her know.

"Then they can't do shit! Haha! I'll get to go down here every day at this rate!" She laughed and looked utterly blissful. Before he could react, she was pulling her top over her head, yelling, "Freedom!" And then throwing it into the air and catching it again like a ball.

"Heather, put your shirt back on!" Vandal said, shaking his head.

She wasn't listening, or she was and rather didn't care to. "But it's so fucking hot down here! How do you stand it?!"

She was right unfortunately. "I don't. I just sweat like a pig all day and immediately strip like you're doing right now when I get home."

"They should let you work in your underwear," Heather said. "Maybe you should make a proposition later."

"Yeah, what do I say? Miss Voerman, please get us a new air conditioner or we will protest by working in our underwear?" he joked.

"Yes!" Heather spoke excitedly. "Do that! And then I want you to describe the look she had on her one face to me after!"

"Tempting…"

"If you're not doing it, maybe I will," Heather hummed.

They had reached the other hallway and Mike had a look of exasperation on his face when he saw Heather coming down it in her bra.

Heather started laughing again and Vandal was close to joining in. It was pretty amusing.

"Yo, Mike!" Heather shouted. "CATCH!" She threw the shirt at his face and laughed harder.

This was so fucking stupid that it was hilarious. Vandal couldn't hold his laughter any longer. Mike plucked the shirt off his face and his eyes were filled with a look of exhaustion. He already seemed so tired of Heather's shit even after just one day and a night. "Can't I transfer her to you? You two seem to get along just fine," Mike huffed.

"Sure, she's entertaining. I'll keep her," Vandal grinned.

Heather gestured for Mike to throw her shirt back and he did. She put it back on and turned to Vandal. "I'm as much fun as you. I'll see you later. Again."

This time he didn't say goodbye. He answered, "See you, Heather."

She waved and followed Mike back upstairs.

Vandal went to the break room with the sample and handed it to Brian. "There you go."

"Thanks, much appreciated. I'll get straight back to work then." He put down his cup and hurried back to his lab.

Phil was sitting in front of the window, looking half bored to death. When Vandal entered Phil said, "No one came in, nobody called. Why are we even here?"

"To kill time," Vandal huffed. "One more hour, to be exact."

Absolutely nothing happened in said hour. Both of them just sat there, silently, after they had quickly discussed what Brian and Phil had been talking about earlier.

He had decided to go visit her in her room at the ward anyway even though he had just seen her. His day was already so all over the place that the little planned detour wouldn't even make a difference at the end of it.

They closed up the blood bank and went to the locker room, got changed and Phil wished him a relaxed day off work tomorrow.

Vandal pulled out his phone and saw that Hannah had texted back.

'Sorry to hear that. I will refrain from wishing you sweet dreams, if it gives you nightmares. xo Hannah. Ps. Imagine me smiling at you before you fall asleep next time instead.'

He replied, 'I will do that, princess. I hope your day is fine. Mine is a bit chaotic. My boss wants to meet me at 9 PM tonight, and Heather went berserk on the third floor earlier, which was actually pretty entertaining. Had to take her blood again too.'

And with that, he went to the mental ward.

Mike had waited for him, just in case and let him in. "I didn't expect you to turn up," he admitted.

"Well you're not the only one. I don't know why I'm here," Vandal answered, flatly.

They had moved her out of the room she had trashed into a sealed off wing that held only three rooms. Heather was the only patient there.

"I'll let you stay in the room with her, but if she attacks you, you're on your own. I didn't see you go in there, I know nothing," Mike warned.

Vandal shrugged. "I'm not worried about her. Which worries me far more is the lack of supervision in this place."

Mike rolled his eyes and unlocked the wing for him. With a smirk on his face, Vandal knocked on Heather's door and entered without waiting for a reply. He knew immediately that she was off again, but this time it was a different kind of off.

She was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. She didn't even turn her head to look at him when he went in. "Hello, Vandal. I'm glad you came."

"Hi, Heather." He closed the door behind him and pulled a chair up right next to her bed and sat down on it backwards, resting his arms on the backrest. "How are your arms?"

She lifted the left one with 'Need Fix' and inspected it. "If I ever get one I can cross it out by cutting another line through it."

"So never?" he asked. "You didn't answer my question though."

"Yes, I guess never. I don't think spiky hair is gonna come back to answer my questions. And they're fine. They look bad, but they don't hurt anymore." She dropped her arm to the bed again and turned her head.

Vandal met her bright green eyes and the expression in his own when he looked into hers was one of fascination. She was so strange and it was intriguing. He had always liked weird things. Things that were out of the norm. He was drawn to them like a moth to flame. He knew it would eventually burn him.

"They're like water. Clear and very deep," Heather told him and kept looking. "You make drowning feel nice. I'm hypnotized. I'm forgetting pain."

Vandal didn't think he could have looked away even if he wanted to. He knew exactly what he was seeing hidden inside the veil of madness, but he had no word for it somehow.

"You're saying you're forgetting pain. Are you hurting just now?" he asked, his voice surprisingly gentle.

"Yes and no." Heather wasn't even blinking. She was still staring into his eyes and if it had been anyone else Vandal would have given them a look so cold that it would have frozen their blood in their veins.

He could only describe the feelings that were displayed in her gaze now. He said, "You feel nothing. Empty. And it is hell. You don't even feel like yourself and nothing matters."

"I'm just a dead husk walking around. An imposter. Imitating to be alive." The smile forming on her lips was indeed faked. "Sometimes I welcome the emptiness. If I can't feel anything at all and don't care then I can do whatever I want. I can do anything. And not feel a thing. I won't feel anxious, scared, guilty, disgusted, nothing. There's a certain freedom in it… not feeling the negative things... and still... I could kill myself, someone else and it wouldn't even matter. The universe doesn't care about any of this shit. In the end everything is meaningless."

"And still there's just enough left in you that you realize how suffocating the emptiness is." He had been there exactly once in his life.

"Yes. You realize that you should feel something, anything at all and there's just nothing there. It's like some demon snatched your very soul," Heather said, still with the same emotionless voice.

"And when it gives it back, everything seems a million times brighter than before, doesn't it?"

"It does. I remember the feeling, even though I'm not feeling it right now. It's like it's just giving them back to have me remember and then torture me again next time it's taking everything away," Heather gave him another fake smile. "I wonder if it looks real. It feels so mechanical."

He returned it with a real one and spoke, "I doubt anyone would be able to tell that you're faking it. I can, but I'm really good at reading faces. I can tell you're lying. To yourself as well as me, right now. It's not reaching your eyes. I can see that you're dead inside."

"I wonder what that looks like."

"There's no way for me to describe this. You could look into the mirror to see. But you will only find a stranger looking back at you," Vandal breathed.

Heather sat up and when her eyes left his, Vandal was almost sorry. "There's a mirror in the bathroom. I want to see the stranger."

He followed her. The bathroom had an unlockable door, held a sink, a mirror and a toilet. The showers were down the hall.

Heather stopped and looked at herself. Vandal stood behind her, looking at her reflection. He could see it. She didn't recognize herself, not really. He knew the feeling. He wondered if she had the same thoughts running through her head right now that he had had when he had been in the same state.

"I feel disconnected from myself. It really is like I'm looking at a stranger. I don't care about her. Looking at this girl in the mirror makes me want to hurt her. She should feel something. It's a good thing I don't have any sharp objects right now." Her eyes flicked from her own to Vandal's in the reflection again. "I tried breaking the mirror in the other room. It doesn't work." She looked back at herself again and wrapped her hands around her own throat. "I tried strangling myself. I passed out and woke up just as dead as before."

It was not quite like he had been, but it was very close. "I can relate." He reached out and placed his hands above Heather's on her throat. She didn't react other than looking at him again in the mirror. He could cut off her air supply right now and she wouldn't care enough to stop him. He could kill her if he wanted.

He gently plucked her hands away from her neck and held them in his for a moment.

"I know you were thinking about it. Killing me," Heather said.

He smiled. "Correct."

She turned to him and he let go of her hands. "I'm already dead. And you will be very soon," she told him.

"I don't think so," he answered, turning away from her and exiting the bathroom again. For some reason, he wasn't planning on leaving just yet. He took the seat next to her bed once more. "Have you called your grandma yet?"

"Mike called her for me, but she can't come," Heather said, sitting down on the bed. "They wouldn't let me use the phone."

No one had called Heather's grandmother. Mike was a dirty fucking liar. Vandal didn't care enough to say anything. Her grandma was probably better off not knowing what state Heather was in. As cruel as that may sounded.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Vandal flat out lied to her.

Her response was another shrug. "It's probably better like this."

"Yes." He inspected Heather again. He looked her over and his gaze came back to the words 'Burn Blood'. "Do you know what it means or why you wrote that?" He was just intrigued.

"No. I think it's what I heard the voices say at one point." Heather was staring at the ceiling again. "They are never silent except for when I sleep. When I sleep they're replaced with strange dreams." She drew invisible lines into the air with her finger. "They're often unclear. Sometimes though, I dream of the future. Like when I dreamt of you."

And now she was talking crazy again, Vandal thought. She had seen him before she had dreamt of him. That made it just a normal dream and by no means something prophetic like a vision.

He asked anyway. "So what was that dream about?"

She gestured around the room. "Dreamt you'd visit me here."

Coincidence. She was a bit delusional as well and he added it to the list of things he had noticed about her.

"Okay. Well, you were terrorizing the staff and they were practically begging me to help," Vandal grinned.

Heather shook her head. "I used to think things like this weren't real. There is so much stuff we don't know about… We are oblivious and blind. We only see what we want to."

She had a point. Still he wasn't one for just trusting into even things like this. He needed proof. For everything. Facts.

"Did they say how long you had to stay?" Vandal wanted to know from her. Staff probably considered her a danger to others and would keep her for a while.

"They said, 'once you're better'. I could just leave if I wanted. I just don't feel like it. Plus, I don't want to burden my friends and my grandma with this. She'll call my college and let them know I'm not going to be able to attend for a while." Heather let out a sigh.

"What course?" He didn't really care but he asked anyway.

"Fashion design." Heather was staring at the ceiling again. "Is taking blood easy?"

That was such a random question. "If you know how, yes."

"I liked watching the blood run into the tube," Heather hummed.

"Yes." He smiled. "It's my favorite part. Getting to watch as it leaves someone's body in a completely controlled way."

"There's a certain beauty in it, isn't there?" Heather mused.

He agreed. "There is. I get to fill bags of it and it's like storing a bit of your life away."

Heather took a moment to process his words. "Yes, you are. Watching it drain is more beautiful than watching it run back into someone. Because like that you know where it comes from. And that understanding gives you power in a way."

Vandal thought about it. She was right. Knowledge wielded right, was a weapon. A powerful one if used by the right person.

He was quiet for a while before he spoke again. "It does. And it is. I always liked its color too. It's a mesmerizing liquid."

Heather turned her head to him again and had a very quiet smile on her lips. A real one. It almost looked sad. "You'll know it better than wine some day…"

When she didn't make sense like that it made him feel strange. He didn't know why. She was talking in a way as if she knew stuff that he didn't and he didn't like it. He didn't like it, even though he 'knew' those were just her delusions talking.

He didn't answer her. There was pain in her eyes. A different kind of pain than before. She wasn't hurting herself right now. Not really. This was a look of apprehension and whatever was causing it made her feel 'sympathy pain'. It was definitely directed at him. He saw it. It was so clearly displayed on her face and what made it worse was that this was genuine.

For a single second, he 'hated' her. He wanted to wipe that look off her face and cause her to have a real reason to be in pain over.

"Well, maybe," Vandal said, his voice even. "Doesn't really matter though."

"No, I guess in the end it doesn't," Heather replied flatly.

"How long you think the emptiness will last?"

"Could pass in a few hours, could last for three days, or a week. I can never say," Heather said. "I can already feel it clearning again though, so I guess this one is only gonna be a few hours."

His had been 3 days of hell. The last day had been the worst. He had had a razor blade against his arm just to feel the cold sharp edge of it. He hadn't cut, but he had been thinking about it in extremely vivid detail.

"I'm hungry," Heather said.

Vandal raised his eyebrow. "You're aware you can get Mike to bring you to the cafeteria, aren't you?"

"I don't feel like having him watch me eat." Heather's face contorted in discomfort at the thought. "Maybe you could take me?"

Why was she so eager to spend time with him? "I am unqualified. They wouldn't let me." The truth was, that Vandal knew exactly that if he pushed them hard enough they would let him take her.

"I could convince them," Heather grinned.

How exactly was she gonna accomplish that? That sounded ludicrous.

"Of course you could, Heather dear," Vandal quipped.

Heather abruptly sat up and her head snapped to him. Her eyes were dilated all of a sudden. "I can do it," she breathed. She grabbed Vandal's shoulders and it took him a lot of willpower to stifle his immediate response to slap her in the face hard enough to make her black out.

"Let go of me," Vandal threatened. He started counting in his head.

It took 3 seconds for her to do so. If he had reached 4, he would have wrapped his hands around her wrists and squeezed, given a very generous second warning and if that had fallen on deaf ears too, he would have been very likely to just get up and leave, before he really did follow through with his repressed initial impulse. Heather repeated, "I can do it. If I convince them, will you come with me?" She was almost begging him now.

He tried to keep his voice even as he responded, "Fine, but you have to stop touching me, or at least ask first."

"You're weird," Heather giggled. "You get to basically wrap your hands around my throat, but I can't grab your shoulders?"

"I was plucking your hands from your throat, Heather," he said, irritated. "What purpose did grabbing my shoulders serve just now?"

Heather seriously thought about it. "I guess to reassure you that I could do it? To underline the statement, basically?"

"You could have used your tone of voice for that. I see your point, but don't do it again, ok? My hand might slip." He was surprised how calm he sounded, despite the fact that inside, he was burning.

"Oh, ok." She was still giggling as if the whole thing was incredibly amusing. "Can you hold my hand?"

Why the fuck would she want that? Her mood switches also seemed as random as her requests.

"Didn't you want to convince Mike to let me take you to the cafeteria?" he questioned.

"Yes, but first I want you to hold my hand, please," Heather smiled.

Vandal looked at her. This wasn't her faking anything. "Why?"

Her smile faded, became sad. "I don't know…"

Again, it wasn't a lie.

He let out a sigh. "Whatever." He held out his hand to her with his palm facing up.

Heather's hand was warm as she took his, unusually warm. The fact he noticed it made him speak up about it, "You feeling alright? You're burning up."

"I feel fine, yeah. Apart from being hungry," Heather let him know. "My hands are always very warm."

It was just the insides of her hands though. His thumb was resting on the back of it and it seemed to be normal temperature. He was still looking into Heather's face. Her expression now completely relaxed. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the backrest. "You just let go whenever you feel like it," he spoke, almost fed up.

"Mhm," Heather made.

Mike would not need to be convinced, Vandal thought. He would jump at the chance to have Heather off his back for a while longer. And he wondered, why he was even putting up with her in the first place. Why was he sitting here with her, holding her hand and wasting time? He didn't know, he was pissed at himself and between that, he somehow had stopped caring and shut off the part of his brain that usually would be yelling at him to fucking leave. At least it was quiet here. He was tired and as time passed, he was starting to seriously doze off in the chair.

Heather was still holding his hand. It must have been more than ten minutes already, but Vandal couldn't really tell in his half awake, half asleep state. He wasn't aware that Heather was watching him with a smile on her face. Neither did he register that she was stroking the back of his hand with her thumb. It was only when Heather spoke again, that he startled the smallest bit and raised his head.

"I hope we become friends..." she said to him.

Vandal was too groggy to shut her down immediately. He just answered with, "We'll see." His head took a minute to clear. "Want to go eat now?" he asked.

Heather nodded and let go of his hand. "Yes. I'll call Mike."

Vandal looked after her as she rose from the bed and went to the door. Her demeanor completely normal again.

"Mike?" she called down the hallway. "Could you come here?"

Vandal joined her at the door and they waited as Mike came over clearly unhappy.

"What is it, Heather?" Mike sighed.

"Vandal offered to take me to the cafeteria, so you don't have to. He'll escort me back to my room after," Heather explained.

She wasn't too bad of a liar, Vandal noted. None of those idiots would be able to catch her lying to their faces.

Mike turned to him. "All right. Thanks, Vandal. Just make sure she doesn't break anything again."

Vandal laughed. "Including herself. I'll make sure."

Mike handed him the keys to Heather's wing. "Have fun. When you're leaving again, just give them to Brittany at the reception. Cafeteria's down the hall to the left."

Irresponsible morons, all of them. Vandal couldn't believe how incompetent and how easily 'trusting' they were. Mike wasn't even questioning Heather's words, when he 'should have'. He wasn't even asking Vandal if Heather was speaking the truth or not.

Clearly relieved to have a break, Mike walked off.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Heather grinned and turned to Vandal. "I told you I could just leave if I wanted. Look at you, having his keys and all. Nothing is stopping me, or you from doing whatever the hell we want here. We're fucking gods, we're the puppet masters and they're all puppets dancing on our strings."

"Pretty choice of words," he chuckled, his irritation almost gone again.

They entered the cafeteria 2 minutes later. It was completely empty. Not even a caterer in sight.

Heather told him, "Their meal times are seriously fucked up. DInner's at 4:30 PM, then at 6:30 PM all you get is sandwiches, or chips, crackers, pudding, yoghurt that kind of stuff. No warm meal. It's bullshit. Fresh fruit and granola bars are always available thank god, or else I think I would have starved by now, and it's only day 2." She went over to the fruit bar and picked up a banana and granola bar. "If you're hungry, take something. They don't seem to give a shit around here."

"I'm good."

Heather shrugged and they sat down at a table. Peeling her banana she kept talking, "This is my first time in a mental ward. It's a lot less horrible than I imagined. You have a relatively relaxed routine and free time in between. The food's not bad either, it's just the times you get it that are fucked up." She took a bite from her banana, grinning. She laughed with her mouth closed as she chewed.

"What the hell are you laughing about?" Vandal asked, amused.

She pointed at her banana, swallowed and still laughing said, "I want to make Mike slip on a banana peel, like in those stupid kids cartoons!"

Vandal shook his head at that comment. That was just so silly, but he encouraged her. "Then do it."

"I'm too lazy right now. Maybe tomorrow." She stuffed the rest of the banana into her mouth, turned on her chair and threw the peel into the trash bin.

"I bet you'll be thinking about it all day now," he teased.

Heather gave him a thumbs up, still chewing on her mouth full of banana.

Vandal had his elbows on the table and was resting his head in his hands. He waited for Heather to finish and she was already opening her granola bar and started eating that. He didn't say a word. Heather didn't seem bothered by that in the least. He felt like she just enjoyed having someone to sit with.

The sudden silence stretched on even after Heather was done eating. She was leaning back in her chair with her head tilted back and she was back to looking at the ceiling.

"Vandal, I think after tonight, after Miss Voerman was here, we'll both be stuck in this hospital together. Me up here, you down there. We both won't get to see the light of day again," Heather spoke and her voice held a strange finality. "Night will fall over us forever. Like the shadow of a beast."

"You're not making sense right now," he sighed. "Also, of course we're stuck here. I work here, you just got here as inpatient."

"It's not what I mean," Heather told him. "It's like I said. We're both fucked. And the demons will be our only friends."

"Your outlook on this whole thing just dramatically changed. I remember you said it's not so bad here a few minutes ago," he reminded her.

"Right now, yes. Like my outlook, that'll change." Heather met his eyes again and he couldn't name the expression in them. "We should both prepare to swim in a sea of impostors and get used to feeling what it's like to pretend."

She made no fucking sense right this second. Vandal held her gaze. "I don't understand a single thing you're going on about right now. And I'm pretty sure you don't know what you're saying either."

"I just feel like something really bad will happen tonight," Heather whispered and now she sounded scared.

"It'll be fine, Heather," he reassured her. "Nothing's gonna happen."

She shook her head. "I'm so sorry, but you're wrong."

He could see the panic surface in her eyes. "Heather, calm down. You're safe here."

"No, no, no. I should run." She was getting up from her chair. "They'll hurt us both."

They? Vandal wondered why she was suddenly using plural when they had been talking about Miss Voerman only.

He held out his hand to Heather, rising from his chair as well. "Heather, calm down. Take my hand. It's going to be fine." He needed her to calm the fuck down, he couldn't have her trying to escape the hospital in this state.

Heather frantically looked around the room as if she was seeing things around her. "They're coming. They're coming to get me. No, no, no. They know. They're closing in."

"Heather, look at me," Vandal ordered her in a tone that made it clear that he wanted to help and that her compliance was urgently needed.

Heather's eyes fixed on his and she listened as Vandal told her again to step closer and take his hand. She did and he felt it shaking in his. She was trembling. He repeated, "You'll be fine. It'll be ok."

Heather's eyes filled with tears. "They're going to burn me. They'll eventually burn you too. I can feel the heat on my arm, on my skin." She winced, then cried out in pain. "It hurts so bad, it's not stopping. The pain isn't stopping! They're burning me!"

It was the first time that he didn't quite know what to do in the situation. He felt 'sorry' for her. He knew she actually felt the pain as if it was real. It 'was' real to her. So the only thing he could think of, was to act as if it was. "We're going back to your room, ok? We can run cold water over your arm, it'll help."

Heather looked defeated. Tears still streaming down her face, she nodded, "Okay." Then her head snapped to the left of her and she shouted, "Leave me alone! Go AWAY!" It snapped to her right, "Get lost! Stop hurting me!" She let out a piercing scream of agony and nearly doubled over into Vandal. "LEAVE ME ALONE!" She was breathing hard and when she looked at him again she spoke, "They're gone for now… Let's get out of here."

He didn't let go of her hand. He led her back to her room and into the bathroom. He turned on the water and Heather placed her right arm under the stream.

"Is it helping?" he asked.

"Yes, it's washing the pain away." Heather looked at him gratefully. "Thank you for your help."

"You're welcome."

She let the water run over it for a while longer before she removed it form under the stream and turned it off. She was dripping water everywhere. "I should have gotten a towel first…" she grumbled.

Vandal turned away from her and asked, "Where are they?"

"In the top drawer," she answered.

He got a yellow towel and handed it to her. She carefully patted her arm dry. She looked at the cuts with a thoughtful expression and spoke, "The scar on your arm looked bad from what I could tell. How deep did you cut?"

"Deep enough for it to bleed for quite a while, not deep enough to actually hit any arteries," he said. "Yours look a lot worse than mine. Have they offered to treat them with scar cream later?"

"Nobody even looked at them again after they disinfected the cuts," Heather huffed.

This ward and this clinic were a disaster.

Vandal pulled up his sleeve again and held his arm out to Heather so she could inspect it close up this time. It ran diagonally along the entire length of the inside of his forearm and was very pronounced.

"So I'll be stuck with the lovely writing for the rest of my life, I guess. I can't afford the surgery to remove them, and even if I had it's not even guaranteed to completely get rid of them." She tentatively reached out for Vandal's arm and asked, "Can I run my finger over it?"

"Yes." He didn't really care so he let her.

"I've never had a scar before either, and now I have a full display of them making up words… Oh well." Heather was smiling for some reason. "Do you feel that? Or is the skin there dead?"

How did she not know? "I can feel it," he spoke, amused. She was a bit like a child at times.

"I'm dreading Miss Voerman's visit," Heather said, her paranoia showing. "She will come to see me, I'm sure."

Vandal thought for a moment. This was probably the worst idea he'd ever had and it could get him in some serious trouble, but he spoke, "Come down to the blood bank fifteen minutes before nine. I'm going to play god and will convince them that Brian needs a third sample. You don't seem to care much if I poke you with a needle, so that way if she really wanted to see you, at least you wouldn't be alone, if you're so paranoid." Mike would have probably been present for Miss Voerman's visit, but Heather seemed to be more comfortable in his presence than anyone else's. Which was already one of the strangest things he's ever had happen.

Heather's face lit up with relief. "Yes, thank you. I really didn't want to have to face her alone."

Vandal's eyebrows drew together slightly. She made it sound as if she thought of Miss Voerman as the devil. She was 'scared' of her. Why? No. He shouldn't ask why. He 'knew' why.

Delusions.

He gave her a half smile. "It's ok."

"You should get some rest before we're meeting her," Heather told him in a neutral tone. And still somehow, to him, she still sounded like she thought of this as going to war, or hell, or both. "Thanks. I'll be down at the blood bank, like you told me."

He nodded. "I will see you later, Heather. Again, for the third time today."

"See you, Vandal."

And with that, he left her room. He glanced back at Heather one last time, and she had already laid down on the bed again.

The door fell shut behind him with a quiet thud.

As Vandal walked down the hallway he encountered no one, not even Mike. He went past the community area and there were a few people sitting there, just talking. A teenage girl, thin as a rail, a guy, probably in his late 20's and two older women. Moving on he went to the reception where Brittany sat and handed her the keys.

"Thank you," she said.

He didn't respond. He didn't get to.

"Vandal," a soft voice behind him addressed him.

It was Lizzy. He balled his right fist and dug his nails into his palm as hard as he could and turned to her. If she was going to apologize again now, in person after sending that fucking email she was making a huge mistake. She should have stayed away. She should not have gotten his attention. She should have left the area as soon as she had spotted him and she should have prayed that he didn't see her.

"Thanks for taking Heather to the cafeteria. Mike told me. I'm going to check on her now. How's she doing?" Liz wanted to know.

Good. If she just talked about work he wouldn't have to snap her neck. "All things considered, fine, I guess. She was hallucinating earlier, now she's just lying on her bed again staring at the ceiling."

"Ah. Okay, thank you," Liz sounded the slightest bit tense.

Vandal smiled at her discomfort. It was a cold smile. "Someone will have to send her down to the blood bank again later at about 8:45 PM. Miss Voerman is coming in tonight. She wanted to have a chat with me. She will probably come up here too. The topic of concern is Heather after all. Brian said he needed a third sample of her blood a few hours after the one he had already gotten earlier."

She believed him. Of course she did. Her answer made her laugh silently. Stupid, stupid woman. Nobody here was questioning anything. They were all unthinking, obedient, blindly trusting morons. "Of course, I'll bring her personally."

Shit. That had backfired. She was seeing an opportunity to again, try to get on good terms with him. Could she not just leave it at 'co-worker' and not try to graduate him to 'good acquaintance' or even 'friend'? He was already pissed again. "Fine."

He could see that Lizzy wanted to say something else and before she could, he turned and walked off.

"He's grouchy," he heard Brittany say when they thought he was out of earshot. "You said you went to school with him?"

Hospital gossip was the worst. If it ever came to it, Lizzy would be the first to have an accident. Slipping on the stairs and breaking her neck seemed like a good option for her. All she needed to do for that, was walk down the stairs in front of him. He would just push her. Yes. And to everyone else he would have tried to catch her as she slipped. Tragic. He hadn't been fast enough in the end, was what he would tell them.

Down in the locker room, he got the rest of his things and finally got out of the clinic for a few hours before he had to come back. On his way back on the bus he was texting with Hannah, whose day seemed to be doing well so far, in comparison to the storm that had been wreaking havoc at the clinic for him.

He pulled into his apartment and immediately went to make something to eat. After he was done, he lay down on the sofa, set his alarm and took a power nap. When he woke up, he felt better than he had in the morning, but not quite alright just yet. His entire day had been kind of disastrous and his meeting with Miss Voerman was probably going to be the cherry on top of it for tonight.

Vandal didn't enter the clinic through the front door. He knew Paige would be at the reception and he didn't even want to look at her right now. He took his keys and went through the back entrance and locked it behind him again. It was 8:40. He had five minutes until Heather and Lizzy would arrive and that was fine with him. He unlocked the blood bank downstairs and waited.

"It's going to be ok, Heather." Vandal heard Lizzy say down the hall. "Nobody's gonna hurt you."

He opened poked his head out the door and watched them approach. Heather's shoulders were slouched and she looked utterly broken. As they came closer he saw that she had been crying. Her eyes were puffy and red.

As soon as she was in front of him she said, "The dark queen is coming to get new pawns to move across the chessboard in her game. And we're two of them, whether we want it or not."

He let out a sigh. "Is that why you've been crying?" he asked.

Heather shook her head. "No." She didn't tell him why she had been.

Lizzy turned to him and spoke, "I'll leave her in your care, I have to go back upstairs."

"Do that."

Lizzy had looked like she was extremely uncomfortable around Heather. It made him smile.

As soon as Lizzy was gone, Heather broke into a fit of uncontrolled laughter. When she was done, her expression didn't revert back to the defeated, broken look. She looked happy. Her mood switches were incomprehensible to him.

Heather smiled at him. "I like her less than Mike. She was asking too many questions. She's 'annoying'."

"That makes two of us," Vandal grinned.

"Let's wait for the bitch to come. She's gonna ruin both our days in a few minutes. We should enjoy the short while of peace." She started walking down the hallway into the direction of the donation area.

"Heather, I'm not taking your blood again. I don't need to," Vandal stopped her.

"What if someone goes to check if Brian got a third sample?" She turned to him again with a raised eyebrow.

Vandal laughed. "They won't."

"Are you sure?" She sounded concerned. Concerned that he could get into trouble.

"I am sure. Come. We'll just wait at the reception."

Heather followed him and they sat down while they waited.

The closer to 9 it got, the tenser Heather became. Upstairs they heard the door to the blood bank fall shut and heels click on the floor.

"We're so fucked," Heather breathed.

"Stay calm, it'll be fine," Vandal tried to console her. He stood up and went into the hallway again.

Miss Voerman wore the exact same outfit she had worn for her last visit to the clinic as well. Brown blazer and knee long pencil skirt of the same color. She was tall for a woman and a bit thinner than the average. When she saw him, she smiled and her grey eyes were cool as they met his. Despite the coolness of her gaze, her voice was friendly when she spoke, "Ah, Mister Cleaver, you're on time. I appreciate punctuality."

He had heard her on the phone, but somehow in person, her voice was far more impressive. It was very clear and had a certain presence to it. In fact it wasn't just her voice that held a presence to it. Miss Voerman was quite remarkable.

"Good evening, Miss Voerman."

"Shall we take our chat to the break room? I have quite a few questions," Miss Voerman smiled.

"I assumed you wanted to speak to Heather as well, so I brought her down here to save you the trip upstairs," Vandal let her know. It was a lie, but he was good at lying. As much as he hated other so it, he himself could justify it, if it got him what he wanted.

Miss Voerman didn't even look surprised. It was strange. He had expected to see a flicker of it on her face, but there had been nothing. "The girl's here? Wonderful. She can join us right away. There's no need for her to wait. I have nothing to discuss with you that I mind her hearing."

So he got Heather from the reception and the three of them went to the break room together.

"Would you two like some coffee?" Miss Voerman asked them. "We'll be here a while and I'm sure both of you are tired."

Vandal had not expected her to offer making coffee. She was a guest here. In any case 'he' should have offered 'her' one. "You really don't have to. I can make it."

"Oh no, it's all right. I insist," she smiled. "I don't drink it myself, but it's the least I can do for having you come here at this ungodly hour. I had so much to do today. The hospital is not the only venture I own. They all require constant checking. I like to be informed about the going ons." She gestured to the two chairs on the side of the table that were in front of the counters with the coffee machine, facing the other wall. "Sit, please. I'll make a pot of coffee and then we can talk."

Vandal and Heather sat down.

Heather leaned close to Vandal and said, "My head is strangely quiet. No one is screaming right now. I feel almost normal. And it's scaring me."

"Shouldn't you be relieved you have quiet for a bit?" Vandal questioned.

"Yes, I know I should, but I just don't."

Miss Voerman didn't speak to them while she was behind them at the counter preparing the coffee, even though she could clearly hear them.

"Heather, relax. You're far too worked up about this," Vandal gently spoke. "You've been stressing since midday. And look, nothing's even happening. You're waiting for a non existent bomb to go off."

"I don't even know anymore. Now that I have quiet I'm starting to doubt." She looked frustrated.

"It's ok, Heather," he reassured her.

Miss Voerman poured their cups of coffee and went around the table, setting them down in front of Vandal and Heather. "Enjoy. I made it strong so the two of you don't fall asleep on me."

Vandal noted that her demeanor was entirely different than when she had been on the phone. She was far more relaxed now and a lot less cold and he wondered if it was because she wanted something from the both of them, or if it was because she genuinely felt sorry for taking up their time. Maybe it was just because Miss Voerman herself saw this as less of a business chat than anything else.

"Thank you," Vandal said, reaching for the coffee.

Heather's head snapped to him.

"Don't!" she brought out between clenched teeth.

Vandal stared at her. Her eyes were filled with pure bewilderment.

"Don't drink it, please," Heather now pleaded. "Please, don't."

Vandal raised his eyebrow. "Why? Heather it's just coffee. It won't kill me. It's not like she poisoned it."

"Please don't. I have a bad feeling about this. I think it's drugged." Heather's eyes were filling with tears.

"It's all right, Heather." It was Miss Voerman who had spoken. "There's nothing in it. If you're so worried I put something in his cup, maybe give him yours?"

Heather's eyes went between the cups. Then to Miss Voerman then to Vandal again. "Don't drink anything. Not from mine or your cup."

This was just so ridiculous. He let out a sigh. "Heather, it's fine. You should calm down. Take a deep breath. You're just paranoid."

She did. And he saw it wasn't helping, at all.

Miss Voerman addressed Heather again, asking, "So you're hearing voices?"

"Yes. They just started screaming at me," Heather answered and turned to her again.

While she kept speaking and her attention was not on Vandal, he took a sip of his coffee. It was still hot and it was warming him up from the inside. He immediately felt better, more awake.

Miss Voerman listened and she seemed interested in what Heather was telling her.

"My sister also hears voices and sees things," she informed them. "I would like to know why you came back to the clinic specifically. Was it a coincidence?"

"No," Heather admitted. "I thought I'd find the guy who helped me get better. He did something that closed the wounds faster, but it shattered my mind and left something in my blood. I thought I could get help here."

"I read your file. It said you disappeared before any of the doctors could start treating you," Miss Voerman stated. "I did some asking around, and the medical student, Paige, did let someone into the back of the hospital who said he was your friend, there to bring gifts."

Vandal nearly choked on the sip of coffee he'd been taking. Paige was going to be the second to have a tragic accident. He would slowly get all the hospital staff replaced if this kept going. He wanted to rid the world of morons. He would make this his mission.

"I have been trying to find him after I got out. I've been checking the entire area, every day. Nothing." Heather spoke.

"Then I have good news for you, Heather dear," Miss Voerman merrily announced. "Whatever illegal miracle cure he gave you seemed to have some side effects, but we'll make sure that you'll get better." She turned to Vandal. "I would like for you to take a blood sample from her every 3 days and bring it to me personally. I will send it in for testing at another facility that has specialized in blood research. I also need the test results from Brian. He couldn't identify what it was that was left in her blood and I think that's because the tech in the lab is only basic. Also, I located the guy Paige had let in and convinced him to start working with me. He's on his way here and you will have an opportunity to speak to him, Heather."

Vandal's face almost slipped. What had she just said? He could almost not believe it. She was willing to work with someone who had administered an unknown substance to one of the patients at her clinic and she didn't seem the least bit concerned over any legal issues. It was no wonder she had picked all those oblivious morons to work here. Was she thinking she could create some kind of super cure if she could find out what had caused the side effects?

Heather's face lit up. "You found him for me? Thank you! I hope he can answer some of my questions."

"I'm sure he can," Miss Voerman said, delighted.

"Where should I bring the samples?" Vandal questioned her. She had not specified.

"Bring them to the Asylum. I have a room right above the club. Tell the bartender you're there to see me and take the elevator up." She leaned forward ever so slightly and continued, "And for your trouble, you're getting a raise. I think that's acceptable?"

Vandal nodded. "It is. Thank you."

Miss Voerman looked pleased. She asked him what state Heather had arrived at the blood bank in when she had come back and he told her everything that had happened.

"Excuse me for a moment," Miss Voerman spoke and stood up. "I think my new associate is here. I will bring him in."

WIth that she left and then returned.

The man who entered the break room with her was even taller than her. He was dressed in a simple white button up shirt and black pants. His spiky brown hair made him look like a hedgehog. But all that was nothing compared to the man's unusual eyes. One was what Vandal could only describe as piss yellow in color and the other vomit green. He gave them a salute, smiled and then turned his attention to Heather. "Hello again, little birdie."

Vandal stared at the man. His voice was extremely deep, but somehow airy.

Heather rose from her chair and walked over to him. "I'm so grateful you saved me! But I think you broke my mind in the process."

"I'm so sorry about that, Heather," the man said. "I will make up for it, ok? I really just wanted to save you. Will you stay at the hospital? I'll come every night to see you. We'll find a way to silence the voices in your head."

Heather nodded eagerly. "Yes, I will. I promise. Promise!"

The man petted her head and smiled. "I'm Kevin."

Heather giggled. She turned to Vandal. "I was getting worked up over nothing. This is a good thing. I'm getting fixed." Looking at Kevin again she asked, "Right? You'll fix me?"

"Of course, Heather."

"Yes!" She sounded so happy.

Vandal shook his head. This nut job. Impossible.

Miss Voerman spoke, "Kevin, why don't you take Heather upstairs? I have a few more things to discuss with Mister Cleaver before I will return to the Asylum."

Kevin led Heather out and he watched them leave with a strange feeling.

Miss Voerman sat down opposite to him again. "It has come to my attention that you and Mister Flabottomus are able to hack into the clinic's system and access files you're not supposed to."

Shit. He had not seen this coming. There was no point in denying it so he simply said, "That's correct." He was aware he was dragging Phil down with him right now. But he didn't care.

What Miss Voerman said next made his eyes widen in shock. "How would the two of you like to do a bit of selling on the side?"

"Excuse me?" Vandal stammered.

"I have a network of people who would be interested in purchasing some blood for various reasons," she smiled. "I'm sure you could do it. You would not have any problems. I would change yours and Mister Flabottomus's shifts for the purpose of this."

He thought for a moment. He wanted to. It was probably more exciting than what they were currently doing.

"I will double your raise if you agree. The entire endeavor is very beneficial to me," Miss Voerman coaxed him.

Vandal grinned. "Alright. I will do it. You're right, it's nothing Phil and I couldn't handle."

"Wonderful. I suggest you start with taking a fifth of the donations you're getting and selling them for 99 dollars a bag. Keep the back entrance to the blood bank open from 9 PM to 3 AM this Saturday. I will personally change your schedules and make sure we have someone to assist during the days," Miss Voerman informed him. "I will come in again tomorrow to have a word with Mister Flabottomus."

"I had not taken you for someone who does illegal dealings, Miss Voerman," Vandal admitted.

It made her laugh. And he realized he 'loved' the sound. "I am not averse to doing things that are against the laws. After all laws are there to break them."

Vandal took another sip of coffee and answered, "I don't disagree. I'm just surprised, is all."

She smiled at him. "I think this is the beginning of a very potent arrangement for both of us."

"You're sure your associates will buy?" Vandal questioned.

"As sure as the sun rises in the morning," she replied. After a moment of silence she leaned back in her chair and said, "Tell me a bit about yourself."

And Vandal started talking. It was his second mistake.

The first, had been not listening to Heather.


	5. A Vessel for Whispers of Disembodied Voi

Chapter 4: A Vessel for Whispers of Disembodied Voices

The more he talked with her the more he wanted to please her and somewhere in the back of his head something started to stir.

Whispers, ever so faintly, were telling him that this was dangerous.

He was telling her things he had never spoken about with anyone. Things that were best forgotten, yet here he was spilling them all to her.

And she was listening. She was absorbing the words that left his mouth like a sponge did water.

They sat for two hours before Therese let him go again, or rather, left. And Vanal felt a strange sensation watching her go. He wanted her to stay. Stay 'near' him. Something was fucking 'wrong' with him. This was not something he would normally feel. He pushed the feeling down and went upstairs to the mental ward.

He felt conflicted. He didn't feel like himself right now. He had the creeping suspicion that Heather had been right.

Nobody stopped him on his way there. No one saw him when he took the key to her wing from the empty reception.

When he entered her room again she was all alone.

She sat on the bed with her legs crossed, her eyes on him the second he entered as if she'd been waiting for him.

She said, "I told you not to drink."

Something in his head seemed to start bending, almost snapping like a twig. A voice in the back of his mind told him to strangle her right now. Then another spoke against it.

He felt like he was going insane. He couldn't really control his thoughts anymore. They were coming too fast and worse, they were coming without his doing. They felt like intruders in his head.

"What the fuck is happening to me?" Vandal hissed.

"This is it. This is the beginning of the end. We're both just tools." Heather pressed her fingers against her temple holding them like a gun. "You should end it while you can." She turned the finger gun on him. "Or I could do it for you if you'd rather not do it yourself."

"What was in that coffee, Heather?" he demanded to know.

She evaded, "The same thing that seemed to have saved my life."

He had enough. He closed the distance to her and wrapped both hands around her throat. "You're going to tell me what you think was in there right now!" He wasn't cutting off her air supply yet, but he was squeezing her neck with a lot of force.

She started laughing. "Blood. Vandal there was blood in it."

He let go of her. It was like for a moment he had forgotten that she was insane. He wouldn't get a straight answer from her.

He felt like he was starting to go down the same road as her right this second. Whatever had been in there had done something to his head. And he already fucking hated it.

Heather's neck was bruised where his hands had squeezed. Vandal stared. They were 'healing' right before his eyes. What the hell was he seeing? Was he hallucinating? He wasn't sure. He had to be. This couldn't be real.

He checked her arms. They were still the same as they had been before.

"I need a sharp object to cross out the words on my left arm. Can you get me scissors or a knife?" Heather asked quite innocent.

He would not get her a knife in here. No way. "I can't," he told her.

"Liar. You could. You just don't want to."

He should get her scissors. He should get her something to hurt herself with and watch. He should do it because it would make him happy. He should do it because-

Vandal held his head. It was hurting. There were too many thoughts in his mind. They were coming faster than he could process. They were so persistent that he felt like he would actually act on them when he knew he SHOULDN'T.

But she would like it. The voice was telling him that Therese would be pleased to hear about this.

He wanted to put a bullet through his head. Right now. Anything to silence the stream of thoughts that was assaulting him.

He was losing his control and he wanted it back. He wanted to see Therese again and at the same time he hated that he was even thinking about it. What had that bitch done to him?!

"Man, are you ok?" Heather's voice interrupted the steady flow of thoughts in his head.

No. No, he was definitely not ok. He was going crazy. He shook his head. The noise started up again. "Keep talking."

"This is bad. I wonder how much she put in if you're already like this," she wondered. "It is too late now. We have become lab rats."

Nothing made sense. What had she said? They both had been drugged?

Vandal had never been drunk before in his life, but if this was what it felt like, he had done good to keep the hell away from it. From drugs in general.

Heather kept speaking, but her words blurred into static in his head. Somewhere in between it all he realized that he had somehow gotten to his knees in front of her and was still holding his head.

Every beat of his heart, every throb of his pulse sent an invisible spike into it behind his eyes.

"I think I need some aspirin," he groaned.

This was the worst. And he blamed Heather for his migraine.

"Me too. Let's get some." She stood up and when she was about to help Vandal to his feet by holding a hand out to him, he didn't take it. He punched the floor. It usually helped to clear his head enough when nothing else was working.

The impact should have sent a surge of pain through his knuckles and it hadn't.

Vandal stared. There was a visible dent where his fist had connected.

Heather took a step back from him. "Holy shit."

"What the hell?" He wasn't hallucinating. She had seen it too. What was going on?

Now he 'needed' answers. He could not let this stand.

His head was swimming. He looked up at Heather from his spot on the floor.

Fear. It was on her face and it was beautiful. It made him smile. It made him feel like he was high. He wanted her to feel more of it.

He should not want her to fear him. He knew he shouldn't. It was wrong. He couldn't stop it. Something in his head had now snapped.

"Are you scared?" Vandal asked his voice dripping with perverse pleasure at the expression deepening on her face.

She tried to hide it. She was trying so hard and failing.

"No," she spoke.

He laughed at her, getting up and watching her retreat towards the back wall.

Stupid move. She should have run past him out the door. He could now trap her where she was and do whatever he wanted.

"You are. I can do whatever I want. Nobody knows I'm in here with you. The wing is so far in the back they'll only hear you when it's already too late."

"Stay back. Leave me the fuck alone," Heather told him.

"So you suddenly want me to leave?" he mocked. "After all the trouble you went through to see me earlier?" He opened his arms to prevent her from trying to go either left or right as he closed in on Heather who now had her back fully against the wall. "Still wanna be friends?" he asked in a threatening tone.

"I do. Please don't hurt me," she begged.

Vandal heard the words but he felt no empathy for her right this moment. All he felt was 'good'. He was stronger than her. And he was going to choke her until she passed out. He wanted to know how long it'd take.

He was right in front of her now. He was sure Heather could feel his breath on her face. She was trembling as he reached for her neck and closed his hands around it like a vise. She was frozen in her fear.

"No, please!" Heather pleaded with him. She barely brought the words out.

He squeezed tighter. Felt her soft skin under his fingers, her veins against them. He pressed down on a single spot on her throat with his thumbs and she began struggling for air and wasn't getting any. She was using up the remaining oxygen in her lungs even faster as she tried to fight him and didn't stand a chance.

Vandal only let go as her eyes rolled back into her head and let her slip down the wall. She was completely limp.

He tilted her head back so she could breathe.

He stood there and looked at her as his head finally cleared enough to form coherent thoughts again.

He had just choked a mental patient at the clinic and there would be no repercussions. He knew. He could just leave Heather in the state she was now and no one would even care enough to check what had happened.

If Heather talked, nobody would take her word over his.

He could do whatever his sick heart desired in this place and she would be his new guinea pig.

"Well, Heather. I guess this makes us friends," he grinned. "I'm now officially as nuts as you." Because he knew what he was doing and thinking right now was in fact insane. He stretched, raising his arms above his head and smiled to himself, "This was almost too easy."

Heather's chest was rising and falling evenly. He picked her up from the floor and lay her down on the bed. She weighed 'nothing'. Maybe the adrenaline coursing through his veins was causing this increased strength. Then again. This was almost unnatural. He had left a dent in the floor.

He needed to sleep the day off. He needed rest and tomorrow, he would meet with Hannah and leave this day of madness in the past.

Tomorrow had to be better than today.

Vandal turned around and headed for the door. He would not stay to see how long it took for Heather to regain consciousness again.

He hurried out of the mental ward unseen.

As he sat down at the bus stop, he noticed that even though his head felt strange still, he felt extremely good. He wasn't even exhausted anymore. At least not physically.

He waited, trying to sort through what had happened. He felt like coming down from a high. The rush of ecstasy he had felt was subsiding. He felt almost normal again.

When he finally arrived at home he had run through his entire day again in his head and now, he could put it behind him and finally get some rest.

He fell into bed and within a few moments, the darkness swallowed him, silencing the rest of his thoughts.


	6. Day Off

Chapter 5: Day Off

Hannah knocked on his door just a few moments after he had found the blowtorch in one of the moving boxes.

He put it down on the kitchen counter and went to let her in.

"Good day to you," Hannah smiled. Today she was dressed in blue jeans and a simple gray t-shirt with a bit of lace around the neckline and sleeves. This time she'd put on eye makeup, but nothing as extreme as the first time she'd come over for her official appointment. This was subtle. It was just enough to make her eyes stand out and still look quite natural. It was just a bit of dark brown eyeshadow and mascara. Her hair she had left open.

"You look great, princess," he complimented her. He really meant it.

She hugged him and answered, "Thank you, Vandal. I knew you'd like it." She laughed, clearly happy. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did, thank you." He led her into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. "So, have you thought about what to make for dinner, or is the plan still to just go to the grocery store and get inspired there?"

"No, I actually did plan ahead," she said, pulling a list out of her back pocket and handing it to him. "These are all the recipes I know how to make by memory. Pick what you'd like."

There were a lot on the list. Most of them Asian food, which he didn't mind at all. He went through the list and stopped at the Indian chicken curry. Turning to Hannah, with his finger still on the line he said, "This would be wonderful."

"Great! It's one of my favorites." She took the list back. "Do you have a pen?"

He brought her one and Hannah began writing down the ingredients they needed on the backside of the paper. When she was done, she asked, "Ready to get going?"

"Of course." He grabbed his keys and his wallet and they were off to the grocery store down the street.

"Oh man," Hannah spoke. "I'm envious. You're so lucky you don't have to drive anywhere. I wish I could say the same. I have to take the bus if I want to go food shopping. This is so much more convenient. There's far less planning involved."

He chuckled. "Yes, I'm glad it's this close."

They arrived at the store 5 minutes later. Vandal just followed Hannah as she got a shopping cart and started picking up what they needed.

"I forgot to ask, do you have rice at home?" Hannah wanted to know when they turned into the aisle.

' _You don't.'_

Vandal almost winced. He had heard his own voice clearly and for a moment he thought he had spoken aloud, but he hadn't. He knew he hadn't. He didn't talk to himself. Never.

"I don't, no," he answered, trying to sound normal.

"Are you ok?" Hannah looked at him concerned.

He nodded. "Yeah, just a headache. It'll pass."

' _Liar.'_

Whatever drug had been in his coffee yesterday, didn't seem to have worn off yet. Fucking wonderful. It seemed to have gotten worse.

She smiled and picked up a pack of rice, then continued down to the next aisle. He followed her silently. He would ignore his own voice calling him out on things and talking to him.

He laughed. He was definitely laughing, but he was the only one who was hearing it and it was starting to unnerve him. This was distracting. It was all in his head.

' _You can't ignore yourself.'_

"Hey, Vandal? Could you pick up some bok choy and bananas for me?" Hannah asked him.

"Sure."

He went and checked the chinese cabbage and bananas, taking the freshest he could find. When he turned to return to Hannah, his eyes fell on a young woman next to him.

Blond, chest long hair with straight cut bangs that hung so low it almost reached her eyes. She was reaching out for a pack of apples. She was extremely thin, to the point of looking sick. The end of her ulnar was sticking out at the wrist quite prominently.

' _You want to wrap your hand around it, don't you?'_

He did. He wanted to feel it under his fingers. Wanted to see how small and fragile her arm would look in his hand.

' _Ask her, if you want to know. Ask her if she will let you.'_

The words left his mouth before he could stop himself. "Excuse me, Miss?"

She turned to him with a questioning look in her blue-green eyes. "Yes?"

What the hell was he doing? This was impulsive. This was 'bad'. This was exactly what he had worked to control during therapy all these years ago, other than his anger.

' _If she refuses… she made a huge mistake.'_

Watch. She was wearing a watch. He needed to get the fuck away from her before he did something stupid.

"Do you know what time it is?"

The woman smiled. "Sure. It's 3.30 PM."

"Thank you kindly." He turned around and hurried away.

' _Coward! You should have done it! You WANTED TO!'_

He wasn't. He was just doing what was socially acceptable. But fuck yes, how he had wanted to.

Hannah smiled at him when he came back and placed everything in the cart. "Thanks. How's your head?"

"Worse," he groaned.

"Do you need a pain killer? I have some in my purse," she offered.

' _Isn't she sweet? She's so sweet.'_

"I'll manage without," he let her know. They wouldn't help with whatever the fuck was happening to his head anyway.

"Ok."

They finished the rest of their food shopping and Vandal handed the lady at the cash register the money.

"Thank you, have a nice day."

He nodded, took the change and Hannah and him went back to his apartment.

He was looking forward to cooking, especially with Hannah to keep him company. It was nice.

They spent their time talking about this and that and at around 7 PM they decided to make dinner.

Vandal started chopping up some onions and the chicken, while Hannah took care of the bok choy and put some water in a pot on the stove to cook the rice.

He got a pan out of the cupboard and started frying the meat.

They worked and about 45 minutes later they sat down at the table and Vandal poured Hannah a glass of white wine. Even though he didn't drink himself, he owned a set of wine glasses. They'd been a gift.

"So, how did your meeting with your boss go?" Hannah asked him as Vandal sat back down again.

"Actually quite well." Apart from the fact that he seemed to have been drugged.

' _Tricked. You were tricked.'_

He continued, "My work hours will be changed. That's basically all she had to say, other than wanting to know about what had happened with that girl who was terrorizing the mental ward."

' _You'll have fun.'_

This was starting to be insufferable. Was his own voice going to comment on 'everything' he was saying and even thinking?

He heard himself laugh again. If he didn't hear it as an outside source, like a real person, it wouldn't have been so bad, but this was extremely annoying. It was extra noise he didn't need.

"Miss Voerman was going to send me the changed schedule. Probably tonight," he finished.

' _You didn't mention the raise. You should mention that.'_

He didn't want to. He couldn't quite say why.

' _You think it's too risky. You like her, but you still don't fully trust anyone, do you?'_

This was uncomfortable. His voice was telling himself things he would rather have kept pushed down.

"Ah, well I hope they don't change for the worse," Hannah commented, taking a sip of her wine and filling her plate with food.

Vandal smiled. "I'm sure they can't get worse than they are currently."

' _You will never see the light of day again. You will shut it out. You'll sleep.'_

That sounded a lot like the rubbish Heather had been saying. It took all his willpower not to pull a face. He filled his plate and took a bite. "I gotta say this is really good."

She kept smiling. "I'm glad you like it."

He was quiet throughout the meal and when they were done, Hannah went back to the kitchen to make the dessert.

"You need help with the blowtorch, princess?" he called from the living room.

"No, thank you. I know how to use it."

He heard it turn on and somehow the sound of it conjured up images of his own hands charred to a crisp. He let out a long breath and reached for the TV remote and turned it on. He set it to a news channel and turned the volume down a bit. He lay down on the sofa and closed his eyes for a moment.

He tried not to think of anything, but to no avail. His mind somehow found its way back to Miss Voerman and then strangely to Heather. He didn't want to think of either. What he wanted was for a black hole to manifest inside his head and drown him in its emptiness.

 _The sofa was swaying gently, up and down, left and right. There was a light breeze on his skin. Had Hannah opened the window?_

 _He sat up and looked around. It was dark. He couldn't see much. While his eyes adjusted he realized, something was wrong. There was too much space around him. He 'felt' it. This was not his apartment. And if it wasn't..._

 _Where was he?_

 _Water sprayed onto his hand. He looked to his right._

 _This was not even his sofa. He was on an air mattress. And he had been pushed out to sea._

 _He was lost at sea._

 _He looked up at the sky. The stars in it were moving like dust particles in a light breeze._

 _How would he ever find his way if they kept moving?_

 _He wouldn't._

' _You're lost!'_

 _Vandal felt a jolt of panic rise inside him. He knew the voice. It was deep, cold, cruel. It was darker than he remembered it. He knew this was his father's voice, even if he somehow didn't associate it with him in this context. It was slightly off. It had a demonic quality to it._

 _He felt blood running down his back. Warm and wet and burning where it was leaving his body._

' _You're useless. Worthless. Weak. Pathetic.'_

 _The voice was filling the entire space around him. It was pressing down on him. He felt it as physical weight. As pressure. It wanted to crush him._

' _Stop crying,' it commanded._

 _Was he crying?_

 _His hands reached for his own face, just to feel it stained with tears._

 _The breeze he had felt earlier turned into a biting cold wind. The sea around him began to swell with waves and in them, he saw faces. They were staring back at him with their cold, dead eyes._

" _Leave me alone," Vandal shouted._

 _The faces distorted, their lips curled into sneers and they started laughing in a high pitched tone that made his blood run cold._

 _The waves grew taller. They were threatening to drown him. They started spilling onto the mattress._

' _I will never leave. You can't erase me. I will always be there whether you want me to or not. You can't change what happened to you.'_

" _SHUT UP!"_

 _The water had become boiling hot, it was starting to eat through the mattress and it burned his skin whenever it sprayed onto him._

 _More laughter. This time from the voice itself. The faces in the sea had started screaming in agony._

 _He was sinking. The mattress ripped and the water burned him alive. He wanted the pain to stop. He needed it to stop. He-_

 _Something wrapped around his ankle. A hand. A very thin, almost bony hand._

 _It pulled him under the water's surface with a jerk and he instantly held his breath._

 _The burning had ceased. The water was cool; all the sound had dropped out and been replaced with something that was almost like an electrical current, but deeper. It came in pulses._

 _All the faces had turned to him. He was in their middle and now he could see that they were in fact corpses. Their bodies pale and featureless, almost like mannequins. They were unmoving, gently swaying, as if they had been tied to strings attached to blocks at the bottom of the ocean._

 _The hand around his ankle hadn't let go again and he looked down._

 _He screamed. Water rushed into his mouth and nose as he pulled in air. It filled his lungs, tightened his chest and he began choking and clawing at his own neck. He tried kicking his foot to break free, to swim up, but he couldn't._

 _The glazed over eyes in the face of his dead sister were staring back at him._

' _It should have been you. And it wasn't,' her soft voice whispered._

 _She pulled him closer by his leg and embraced him as he continued to choke to death._

' _Let go. Let the darkness take hold and destroy all that you are.'_

 _He kept fighting. He was scared, terrified. His lungs were burning and he felt like his head was going to split._

 _A hand from behind grasped his shoulder. Then another his arms. Another onto the back of his neck. Again another touched his leg. They started pulling at him. More and more hands began to pull at him. They were trying to rip him to pieces, all while he was still not getting any air._

 _The sea started turning red in front of his eyes. It was staining with his blood as the hands dug their nails into him and-_

His eyes snapped open and found Hannah's, who was leaning over him from where she was standing beside the couch. She looked worried.

"I'm sorry, princess," he mumbled. "How long was I out?"

"Not long. Only 10 minutes, I was just gonna wake you up to let you know dessert is ready," she said. "Are you ok? You were crying in your sleep."

"I'm alright." He slowly sat up.

"Do you need some space?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Sit down. I want to hold you." He tapped his lap. "I think it'll help me calm down."

She did and he wrapped his arms around her. It was helping. Like this he didn't have to hold himself.

Eventually, he let go of her again and they finished dessert.

"I'm sorry I'm not all that talkative tonight," Vandal apologized. "I feel mentally drained from yesterday still."

"It's ok. I know what that's like." Hannah got up from the table. "How about we just lie down on the sofa and watch TV?"

He agreed and after they had put the plates and dishes away Hannah was back in his arms, laying on top of him. They were watching a rerun of a show from about a year ago, that way if they did talk in between they wouldn't miss anything important.

After a while Vandal said, "Have you ever met someone who's hallucinating or delusional?"

"No," Hannha replied. "That girl, Heather wasn't it? She was right?"

He nodded. "Yes. I can't get her out of my head for some reason. I keep going back to yesterday. I feel the urge to go see my boss again to talk to her… I feel strange. Maybe all the stuff Heather said is getting to me."

' _You shouldn't tell her this.'_

Hannah sighed. "I'm sorry to hear that Vandal. If you like you can tell me all about it."

He hesitated. He wanted to tell Hannah, but at the same time the voice in his head was almost shouting at him not to now. It was becoming quite violent. It almost made him wince.

' _DO NOT tell her! Therese will find out. She can MAKE YOU tell her that you told her. Do. Not. Tell. Her. I am warning you!'_ It had changed. It was no longer his own voice. It had morphed into the demonic voice from his dreams. There was an unwanted jolt of panic running through him for but a moment at the sound of it.

"I don't know," he spoke quietly. "I think I'll just try not to think about it for a while."

Hannah smiled at him. "Alright." She shifted, propping herself up on her arms on his chest and leaned down to kiss him.

He ran his fingers through her hair and felt himself relax. When she broke apart from him again, she rested her head over his heart and he placed his hand on it, gently petting her.

Eventually he felt her weight on him increase and he knew she'd fallen asleep. He did not wake her. He wouldn't until he had to get up.

His mind wandered, first from just looking at Hannah, to imagining everything he could do to her, now that she was asleep and helpless.

' _She's at his mercy now…'_

Vandal closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wanted this to stop. The voice was a different one from before. This one was female. It was soft and airy, calming.

A third one, not counting his own, now seemed to reply with a gentle laugh, ' _He won't hurt her. He likes her.'_ The voice was also female, but a bit deeper, it had more resonance to it.

' _He wants to protect her.'_ This voice was male again, but not the demon.

' _He does, doesn't he?'_ the first female asked. Then she actually addressed him, ' _Do you?'_

He answered aloud, before he could process that the words were actually leaving his mouth, "Yes."

He felt anger rise up inside him. A white hot flash of it, when he realized what he had just done. He was losing control. He had just lost control. It didn't matter that it was just answering aloud to something that was only in his head, that he knew wasn't actually there, but it pissed him off.

' _That's sad,'_ one of the females whispered.

Vandal didn't give a shit if it was. He didn't even know if they were referring to the fact that he was pissed at losing control or if they were speaking about him wanting to protect Hannah. All he wanted was for the hallucinations to stop.

Tomorrow, he would follow Phil's example and let some medicine disappear. He would swipe some antipsychotics.

' _You can't get rid of us.'_ It was the demon voice. It laughed at him.

"Well, watch me, I'll make you all disappear," Vandal hissed. He would kill the voices. He wished he could use a knife to do it. He hated them. Already.

' _Please, don't.'_ Something in the way the female voice had said it sent a shiver down his spine. It was 'begging'. Even as a hallucination, it shouldn't feel this 'good' to hear someone beg. It could beg all it wanted, he was going to do it anyway.

He smiled. He hadn't completely lost control, no. He had slipped. He had only slipped. He still had power over what to do.

' _You can try, Vandal. You will fail. And you will pay a price for it,'_ the demon voice spoke ominously.

"I won't. Fuck you."

It laughed and the other voices joined in. They were laughing at him. It made him want to punch something. Hannah was still on him, so he couldn't. He did the only thing that came to mind that moment. He dug his nails into the back of his hand and focussed on the pain. It was helping, at least a bit.

He felt like he needed to take a walk, but he didn't want to wake Hannah.

' _Sweet, so sweet. He's good.'_

Yes. But he needed to move.

' _You want to run from us? You can't. We'll always be with you.'_

He did. He would. This was unbearable. Now he knew what Heather must be going through.

He would take Hannah on a walk, right now.

Placing his hand on her shoulder, he gently shook her awake.

She raised her head and he told her, "Sorry Hannah, but I was wondering if you wanted to come with me, I wanted to go for a quick walk around the block. I think I need some air to clear my head." He smiled and hoped it didn't look strained.

Clearly groggy, Hannah nodded and sat up. "Of course, Vandal."

He stood, grabbed his phone and keys and a dark brown leather jacket from the coat rack and waited for her to put on her shoes as well.

About a minute later, the door to his apartment fell shut behind them with a quiet thud and a voice whispering in his ear.

' _We will guide you.'_

Somehow they ended up at the pier, silently overlooking the ocean and Vandal was glad that he didn't see faces in its waves. But there were whispers, unintelligible whispers, but they were there nonetheless.

"I used to come here a lot when I needed to be alone," he admitted and let out a long, heavy sigh. "Feels like ages ago."

"It's nice. Calming. I can see the appeal." She smiled and turned her face to him.

For a moment, he forgot how to answer. Her hair was gently swaying in the light breeze, some strands brushing over her cheeks, over her soft skin. He brushed them behind her ear and said, "Thank you for coming out here with me." He rested his hand on her face and leaned closer. "I really appreciate it."

"No need to thank me."

His hand fell away again with a quiet smile on his lips. "Can you swim, princess?"

"Yes. Were you planning on skinny dipping?" she chuckled.

He shook his head. "No. I was just curious."

"Can you?"

"Yes." There was a very long pause before he spoke again. "But my sister couldn't."

"Couldn't? Oh, no. I'm so sorry, Vandal. Is she-" Hannah didn't finish, her voice broke and her features contorted into a mask of pain.

"She drowned, yes," Vandal answered her unfinished question bluntly. "I still have nightmares about it."

"I'm so sorry," she spoke again.

"Thank you, Hannah." He meant it.

"I also lost my sister. Committed suicide…" Her voice was cracking like glass.

' _Weak!'_ a female voice to his right snarled. With a slight stab of regret, Vandal realized that he didn't feel anything upon hearing about Hannah's sister. He didn't care and he almost hated himself for thinking that the voice was right, even though he knew it wasn't.

"I'm sorry too, princess," he lied. It wasn't a complete lie though. He did feel sorry Hannah was hurting.

She took a deep breath. "I guess I'm ok. It's just painful to think about."

"It always is."

After that, he let the silence stretch out, eventually taking Hannah's hand in his, while they just stood there.

' _Someone's watching you…'_

Nobody was watching. They were alone. He ignored the voice.

was someone coming from behind them.

Vandal turned just to find no one there. The footsteps however, were still approaching.

"Who's there?" Vandal asked, threateningly.

They stopped about ten feet away from them.

Hannah looked at him concerned. "Are you ok? There's nobody here."

"Didn't you hear the footsteps just now?" he questioned.

"No."

Whoever was there started walking again, slower this time.

"You're sure you're not hearing this?" he asked again.

Hannah nodded as he glanced at her. "Yes, I'm sure, Vandal. Maybe we should go home, I think you need some rest. I'm sure you'll feel better when you wake up."

Yes, they should leave. Definitely. The voices in his head were telling him that there was danger, and now it was starting to seriously freak him out.

"You're right," he told Hannah.

As soon as the words had left his mouth, the footsteps began to retreat again, down the pier and away from them. He relaxed a bit.

' _Don't let them follow you.'_

He didn't let go of Hannah's hand as they made their way back to his apartment. And when Vandal checked his clock it was well after midnight.

"Good night, Vandal," she said and kissed him. "Let me know how you are in the morning. I had a good time again. Thank you."

"As did I, princess." He kissed back. "I will."

' _Don't let her leave, you idiot!'_ Vandal winced at the cruel voice hissing in his ear. His hand automatically reached out and caught Hannah as she was turning away from him and he didn't even recognize his voice as he 'begged' her, "Please stay." He let go as if he had burned himself and stared.

Hannah, still in the doorway, looked back at him surprised. Then slowly, a smile spread across her face. "Of course, I'll stay."

' _Kill her for making you feel this way.'_

No, he wouldn't. Never.

Hannah came back in and closed the door behind her.

"Fall asleep with me," he breathed. "I want to hold you in my arms." He truly did. He didn't know why.

Smiling, Hannah followed him into the bedroom and they stripped down naked, before Vandal wrapped them both in his blanket and held her close, breathing in her scent and enjoying the feeling of her skin against his. It didn't take ten minutes before he was out cold.


	7. Of the Weak Willed and Weak Minded

**Chapter 006: Of the Weak Willed and Weak Minded**

The following morning, Vandal awoke to the sound of his coffee machine and multiple voices wishing him a good morning. He groaned. The effects weren't wearing off. Why weren't they?

He checked the time. It was super early. The sun wouldn't be up for a few more hours at least. Miss Voerman hadn't sent any new schedules yet, so Hannah was right to be up. It was about 10 minutes until his alarm would have gone off.

He stretched on his bed and then got up, threw on underwear, some sweatpants and a t-shirt and went to the kitchen.

"Good morning, Hannah," he grinned. "What are you doing up?"

She turned and he immediately noticed that she didn't look so good. There were dark circles under her eyes. "Good morning, Vandal. I couldn't sleep… Sorry I woke you up."

"It's fine. Alarm would have gone off in a few minutes anyway." He moved over and got a second cup from the cupboard. "Nightmares?"

She nodded.

"Sorry to hear that." He sat down at the table and motioned for Hannah to sit with him while they waited for the coffee to brew. "Want to talk about it?"

She only gave a weak smile. "Thanks, but I don't think so." She changed the subject. "When do you leave for work?"

"In an hour and a half. How's your schedule looking for today?"

"Not so good. Have two of my least favorite customers in my book today," she grimaced.

"You can come here anytime you want," he offered.

"Thanks. If I feel like crashing here later, I'll text you to see if you're home."

He could tell she appreciated it. "You're welcome." He got up and poured them both their coffee. "Maybe we'll both feel better after this."

They drank in silence. But for him, it wasn't quiet. The whispers in the back of his head wouldn't shut up.

He would probably go up to the third floor before the start of his shift. He kind of wanted to see if his incident with Heather and its aftermath had left a disturbance in the monotonous routine of the Clinic. He hoped it had. He liked chaos when he had created it.

They finished their breakfast and cleaned off the table.

Hannah was at his door, ready to head home to get ready for her day as well. "I'll text you later. I hope your day goes well," she smiled at him.

"And I hope yours won't be all that awful," he answered with a grin.  
She kissed him goodbye. "I'll see you soon, Vandal."

' _She won't. But you might see her.'_

"See you soon, princess."

With a thud, the door closed. He would take a shower now.

He chucked his clothes into the laundry. He turned on the water and hoped it would wash away the voices in his head.

He took a deep breath as the water ran over him and concentrated on it streaming down his body. He tried to relax.

' _Why are you unhappy? You should be ecstatic!'_ one of the female voices laughed at him.

He ignored her.

' _He's clearly unhappy that Hannah left. She 'left him'.'_ A different voice spoke.

' _She'll not come back. He let her go.'_

' _Maybe it's for the better?'_

' _No it isn't!'_

' _How could you have let her go?!'_

' _HOW COULD YOU?!'_ the voice screamed at him.

' _Moron!'_

' _Idiot!'_ another male voice hissed.

' _You will lose someone you care about a second time.' 'You will lose her, just as you have your sister.'_ The voices started distorting in his head. ' _You'll learn to enjoy it.' 'You'll stop caring.' 'You'll learn to love us and then you don't need anything else ever again.' 'You will love your loneliness.'_

' _And you will be as dead and cold inside as all of them.'_

' _Dead. Dead. Dead.'_

' _Everything gone, everything you ever loved, enjoyed, cherished. Gone. You have no reason to live. You-'_

"SHUT UP!" Vandal let out an agonized scream. "Leave me the fuck alone! I don't want to hear any of this!" They started laughing at him.

' _Kill yourself! It will stop the pain you're feeling,'_ the voices sneered.

He had never thought about it before. Ever. Not even after his sister had died. Just last night he had agreed that he thought of it as weak, now he was doubting that.

The voices kept laughing, louder and louder.

' _Do it! Do it!'_ they chimed.

' _You'd never do it.'_

' _You're so selfish! You should do the world a favor.'_

' _Your sister would love to see you dead, trust me. She would be so happy you finally joined her,'_ the demon voice pressed.

Vandal felt a sharp pain in his knees and realized they had buckled under him and hit the floor of the shower with enough force that he was bleeding. He started crying. His tears blended with the water and blood and flowed down the drain. He hadn't cried since he was very, very young and while he was crying, the voices faded. There was complete silence, he could hear nothing but the sound of his own whimpering and weeping. He felt incredibly empty all of a sudden. The pain he had felt earlier that was tearing his chest apart had vanished and left a gaping hole. A black void.

The voices were fucking liars, Vandal told himself, as he sat back against the wall, water still spilling over him. They were 'liars' and he would fucking 'end them'. He would go to Miss Voerman and demand to know, what the fuck she had drugged him with! He would take Heather with him. He was sure she'd help if he asked, even if it was just because she would probably now be too scared to refuse after what had happened. Even with her broken mental state she couldn't possibly make things worse than they were.

He felt the hole fill up with hate, felt it overflow like a pot of boiling water and run into his veins, heating him up from inside.

That entitled bitch thought she could fuck with him? Use him as a guinea pig? She would pay for that. He didn't care if it cost him his job. He was furious. Livid.

He got up from the shower floor and grasped the faucet to turn off the water.

"She will pay," Vandal spoke to no one and his voice shook with anger.

His hand shut tighter around the handle. "She's gonna regret this. I will make sure of that." And with one quick jerk, he pushed the handle back and the water stopped, the rest of it dripping over him and the steam from the hot stream slowly clearing.

He got out and dried himself off, pulled on underwear, got his jeans and a t-shirt, grabbed his keys and his phone and headed for the hospital.

His mood didn't improve when he saw who was manning the reception at the mental wing when he entered.

"Vandal," Lizzy said, clearly surprised to find him here. "What can I do for you?"

"I need to see Heather," he bluntly answered.

Lizzy's face fell. "We found her unconscious in her room. I don't think it's a good idea. She's having an episode. Told us she was choked."

Didn't Heather mention his name? Or was Lizzy just keeping that information from him?

"I just need five minutes to talk with her," he pressed. "It's important."

Lizzy sighed. "Okay, fine." She reached into a drawer and pulled out the keys to Heather's wing. "Five minutes. If she doesn't want to talk to you, you have to leave." She got up and lead him down the hallway and knocked on Heather's door.

Heather didn't answer, so Lizzy cracked it open a bit.

The door swung open and Lizzy was almost thrown into the room by the sudden force. She hadn't let go of the handle quick enough.

Heather's blazing green eyes stared at her and she shouted, "Leave me the fuck alone! I don't want to see your face again after what you said, you stupid bitch!"

Vandal stared. What the hell had happened between these two while he was gone?

"Heather, please stay calm," Lizzy spoke.

The palm of Heather's hand met the side of Lizzy's face. "Fuck you! You talked shit about me behind my back! You COWARD! Too much of a pussy to tell it to my face!"

The impact had left Lizzy's cheek bright red and she looked close to crying. Her eyes were wet.

It was now, that Heather noticed that he was there too. She screamed at Lizzy, "I hope he KILLS you!"

He didn't know why, but her comment made him laugh and his laughter held the slightest hint of derangement in it. Lizzy didn't seem to hear that, but Heather picked up on it, because she was now suddenly smiling in her rage. "You're so dead, you stupid little bitch. Needle in your neck, neck, neck!" She was almost singing now.

"I know why you're here," Heather told Vandal, suddenly ignoring Lizzy completely.

Lizzy turned and without more than a mumbled, "I'll leave you two alone. I'll be back when the time's over," she left.

Vandal closed the door behind him as he entered the now all too familiar room. "Do you now?" he mocked.

"You wanna go to the club to find Miss Voerman," she answered, correctly. "And you want me to come with you." She let out another laugh. "Good luck making that happen. They will never let me out."

"They don't have to. We'll just leave." He knew there was no one but Lizzy on the floor at this time. "Wait here, I'll drug Lizzy with a high dose of sleep meds and when she's out, we'll be on our way."

Heather actually considered it. "Well that bitch deserves it after all…" It didn't take another few seconds until she had made up her mind. "I'm in."

"That was easy," he chuckled. "I'm noticing you're not scared, even after what I did to you."

"You couldn't help it. I'm not actually worried that you're gonna kill me to be honest… Something would have stopped you."

Nothing would have stopped him, deep down, he knew. But if it gave Heather peace of mind, he wouldn't take it from her. Not yet.

Without another word, he left Heather's room and walked up to the reception, where Lizzy was sitting, still holding her cheek. Heather had hit her with immense force.

She looked at him, and her eyes were red. He was sure she had cried once she had walked out the door.

"Do you need a painkiller?" Vandal asked friendly. "I could bring you one and a glass of water." He made it sound like he felt sorry for her. But of course, he didn't. He was enjoying seeing her like this.

Lizzy hesitated, but then agreed. She looked surprised. "Thank you, that would be nice."

' _Stupid girl.'_

"I'll be back in a minute." And with that, he went downstairs, hoping he wouldn't run into anyone on the first floor.

He snuck into the medicine storage and looked through the shelf until he had found what he was looking for. A pack of Triazolam tablets. It would put her to sleep for about 1 to 2 hours.

He took a strip of them out and placed it in a pack of Ibuprofen. Lizzy would not notice the swapped tablets, he would make sure of that. He was good at distracting people.

Back upstairs, he brought her the glass of water and handed her the pack. "Heather clearly doesn't like you," he smirked. "I hope the painkiller helps. Maybe you should take two. It looks painful. Your cheek is practically swelling right now."

Without the slightest hint of mistrust, Lizzy popped two of the tablets and chugged them with water.

He discreetly took the pack back into his pocket. Now all he had to do was wait until she was out cold. It wouldn't take long. And indeed, about 10 minutes later, Lizzy's head started to slump and eventually, she rested it on her arms on the desk.

Vandal immediately got Heather. "Come on! We got a good hour or two before she wakes up again."

She put on her shoes and pulled a blue sweater over the yellow t-shirt she was wearing.

They hurried along the hallway and out of the mental wing. Vandal made sure they exited through the blood bank.

"I don't think you'll like what she'll tell you if she's there," Heather let him know as they came out of the alleyway and onto the main street.

He didn't care. He wanted answers. He could handle them, even if they were unpleasant.

"How's your head," Heather asked him. "I keep hallucinating. Random images and sounds. It's not going away."

Just like him. "Same." The Asylum came into view down the street.

"We're about to step into the beast's lair."

He ignored her. He 'needed' to know what she had done to him. If he had to go to war with that woman to find out, so be it.

' _She'll be so happy to see you.'_

Oh, she wouldn't be, she definitely wouldn't be once he started tearing into her. He had made up his mind to verbally destroy her.

The voices in his head laughed at his thoughts.

Once at the door, he didn't stop and went straight in and to the bartender. "I need to see Therese Voerman. Is she here?" He didn't bother to introduce himself.

The bartender raised his eyebrow and questioned, "You're the guy who's supposed to bring stuff from the hospital, right?"

He nodded. "I am. Name's Vandal Cleaver."

"I'm Cal. I'll send you up. But if I remember correctly Miss Voerman said you'd be over tomorrow." He shrugged. "Take the elevator. She's in her office."

Vandal nodded to Heather and let Cal know that she had to accompany him.

"Fine."

"Please, come in," Miss Voerman's voice rang out. She smiled as she saw Vandal and Heather enter. "I'm delighted to see you both. How can I help you?"

Heather stood next to Vandal, staring at the ground. He spoke and surprised himself by how calm he sounded. "Well, I have a few questions about that cup of coffee that you drugged."

Her smile was brilliant to him and her laugh like music. Somehow all of the rage had suddenly left him. "Ask away."

She wasn't even denying it?

"I want to know what was in it."

Therese's eyes flicked to Heather, then back to him. "I think she already told you, but you didn't believe her."

This was absurd. Heather had told him there had been blood in it. "Of course I didn't. She was in no sound state of mind."

She stepped closer. Why did he feel threatened all of a sudden?

"She was telling the truth. I spiked the cup with my blood." She smiled wider, exposing a row of shining white teeth. "I did this, to ensure you'd come back to me." She rolled up the sleeve of her blouse. "To ensure your loyalty."

Next to him, Heather was starting to mumble, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," over and over again.

Miss Voerman continued, "Tell me, have you felt stronger lately? Less tired? Maybe broken something that you normally wouldn't have been able to break? Heard things you normally wouldn't be able to hear?"

She was right. He remembered the dent he had left in the floor. The footsteps Hannah hadn't heard on the pier.

Her eyes were on him, and for some reason, he felt like he couldn't lie to her. "I have."

"If you continue working with me, I'll let you in on a secret. You can keep a secret, right?"

His head felt foggy. "Yes."

"Good."

Vandal felt his face slip into a look of disbelief and fear as two of Miss Voerman's teeth changed. They were elongating, turning into fangs.

Heather was still motionless beside him. She wasn't reacting to anything that was happening, as if she was in a trance.

Was he hallucinating? This couldn't be real! Vampires didn't exist!

' _They do. You belong to her, just like we do.'_

No. No, they were lying! This was a trick!

With her ivory fangs, Miss Voerman bit her wrist and blood poured out of the punctures. "Have a sip, Vandal. It'll erase the doubt. It'll make you feel better than you could ever feel."

When he didn't immediately move, she stepped closer and her steel gray eyes bored into him like a dagger into flesh. He felt like she wasn't just looking at him, she was seeing 'all of him'. "Drink!" The command was forceful and sharp.

The smell of her blood was intoxicating. On top of it, he felt a pull in his head. He felt like he had lost all control of his senses. The single word filled his head to the point of bursting. It hurt. He shouldn't be disappointing her. He couldn't disappoint her. She was crushing his will with hers. And the voices, they were screaming in his head.

' _DRINK OR DIE! DRINK OR DIE! DRINK OR DIE!'_ They came in waves, rising in volume, fading out again, then rising again. Over and over. ' _Drink to feel alive. To feel loved. To become so much more than you were…'_ They made him dizzy.

Before he knew what he was doing, he had already put his lips to her wrist and was gulping the tepid liquid down like a man dying of thirst. Every time he swallowed, he felt better, stronger, more alive, before a sharp pain in his arm sent him reeling backwards.

Miss Voerman's fingers were dripping with his blood. She had cut into his arm with her nails like a knife would. "Heal yourself," she demanded. "Use a drop of the blood you just drank. Feel the heat inside you and direct it towards the burning of your wound."

It was almost instinctive. And in awe, Vandal watched the cut close itself within seconds.

"Do not do this too often, or you will use up all of it. You have to keep a bit of the blood in your system. It will prevent you from aging. I will have you drink again in a week and then every month to maintain this state," Miss Voerman stated calmly. "And now that you know what I am, make sure that no one else ever hears about this. If anyone did, I would have to kill you. And believe me, it would be easy."

He believed her. He believed every word. If he hadn't seen and felt this himself, he'd have called her mad right then and there.

And Heather. She had known! She must have known all along!

His head snapped to her. "You knew, didn't you?" he growled.

Heather turned to him in slow motion. Her face ridden with guilt. "I knew. I wasn't allowed to speak about it. Before you came, Kevin told me you would and he told me to come with you. To make sure you would go to her."

Vandal nearly jumped when someone behind them spoke, "And you did well, Heather dear." Just as he turned, Kevin suddenly appeared in the room.

"The blood you'll be selling," Miss Voerman's voice made his head snap back to her immediately. He felt an emotion run through him, that was very similar to when he was with Hannah, but it was mixed with something else. Rage and the feeling of betrayal. Something in him had changed. Deep down he knew, he had made a mistake by drinking her blood, and he also knew he never had a say in it. Not really. He couldn't have refused. "You will be selling to other vampires, kindred, that's our word for them. As for you: A human who drinks vampire blood is a ghoul. You're stronger, faster and more resistant to injury now. But make no mistake, one slash to the throat can still mean the difference between existence or not."

"I understand." He still had questions about the blood samples he was supposed to bring to her every three days.

"Ask," Miss Voerman told him. She had sensed it.

"What do you need Heather's blood samples for?"

"Well, that information is something I cannot share with you just yet. Be assured however, that I will in a month's time, after we ran some tests." She turned to Kevin. "Since Heather was staying at the mental ward of the clinic until now, I need to ask if it would bother you if she stayed there for a while longer."

"I would prefer if she came and lived at my place. It isn't far from the hospital and she could go to the blood bank every three days on her own," Kevin let her know.

"Alright." Her attention was back on Vandal. "How did you get her out of the mental wing?"

"I drugged Lizzy with sleeping pills," he grinned. "She won't remember much."

Therese nodded. "Well, I will handle the matter personally. You're to go to work as usual today, then take the rest of the week off and come back in on Saturday, like we discussed."

"Of course. Thank you, Miss Voerman," Vandal said and didn't recognize his own voice. He never spoke like this. He sounded 'submissive'.

WIth a nodded goodbye, Kevin went for the door. Heather automatically followed him and as she passed Vandal, she stopped and spoke, "I'm sorry. I guess neither of us ever had a say in this. But now at least, you'll get to do all the things you could never try before, but wanted to…"

The voices in his head happily laughed, ' _She's right.'_

How would she know about that? He didn't really care. "See you tomorrow, Heather."

A weak smile settled on her lips. "See ya."

The door closed behind them and there was a long moment of silence in the room.

"Vandal?"

Her voice sent a shiver down his spine. "Yes, Miss Voerman?" He noticed that she had apparently licked his blood off her fingers.

"I will try to keep Jeanette away from you. She's my sister and she's usually downstairs at the club when I'm out inspecting my ventures. Do not indulge her. She usually tries to make people dance on her leash. If you ask for me and she tells you I'm not there, just leave. She can be quite unpredictable and she likes to play people."

"Understood."

"Very well, now leave me. The sun will be up soon and I need to settle some matters before I go to rest."

She held the door for him. "Oh and one more thing. The voices you are probably hearing... They're part of my clan's bloodline. You'll get used to them."

With a quiet thud, it closed behind him, leaving him with a slight sting of pain at being sent away in his heart that was moments later overtaken by a surge of hate for her even being able to make him feel this way.

When Vandal finally pulled into his apartment after his shift had ended, he felt more normal again. Work had been boring and uneventful. None of his coworkers had messed up in any way and none of the morons from upstairs had bothered him.

All in all, the day had gone fine. Well, apart from what had happened before dawn. He was surprised however, that it didn't really phase him. It made 'sense'. If he had to explain it to someone else, he probably wouldn't even be able to. It was like something had lifted a veil from his mind and now everything was a lot clearer.

The remainder of the evening he spent just like any other. Well almost. He desperately tried to ignore the rush of different emotions he was feeling. Tried not to wage a war in his own head. With himself, and the voices.

Before long, he decided that it would probably be better to go to sleep. Secretly he hoped that nothing would haunt him in his dreams.

 _The light skinned young woman with short, curly black hair was leading them deeper into the industrial area._

 _They turned a corner and she stopped, turned around and looked at the second female with blond hair that had been walking in front of Vandal, in between them. Then her eyes flicked to him and she started smiling in a way he could only describe as malicious._

 _He liked her smile. His tone was cold as he addressed the blond with her back turned to him. "You know she doesn't really care, don't you?"_

 _She stood there, frozen for a moment and didn't answer. She was now scared._

" _She doesn't care about you," Vandal repeated, taking a step and the woman turned, feeling him move closer._

 _His face was half hidden in shadows. The street lamp behind him made it hard to see for her._

" _Did you hear me?" he asked, lowering his voice into almost a warning._

 _She did. But she didn't want to hear this. She felt like if she didn't reply, things would get worse. She just nodded._

 _He kept walking towards her and she withdrew from him. He, as well started smiling now. It spread across his lips into a look of menace and she knew that he wanted to harm her. He also knew that she believed every word he had said, even though she didn't want to._

" _She makes you happy right?" There was a pause. Tears were welling up in her eyes now. She wanted him to stop talking and he wasn't having that. He didn't need a verbal reply from her. Her reaction was answer enough. "She does." He let out a short laugh and raised his hand._

 _The woman's back hit the wall of the alley they were standing in. She wanted to run, he felt it and as her head turned to her right to look for an escape route, he grabbed her wrist._

 _Her head snapped back to him. The fear clearly visible in her widened eyes._

" _You're lying to yourself if you think that you make her happy as well. You're nothing to her. She could walk away and she wouldn't feel a thing." He pushed his face closer and in the low light his pupils dilated into two, great, black voids. They were like the sea at night. He could see she wanted to fall into them and never surface again. "You're worthless, just a distraction, something to pass time with, and once you've lost your usefulness, she will throw you away like a wrapper that's not needed anymore when you've eaten the food."_

 _She was feeling empty. Lost. She didn't want to believe him, but she did. And he knew she was thinking that she shouldn't._

 _The young woman next to him started laughing. "Look at her face. She's so weak. Just break her beyond repair. It will be easy. I want to see it. I want to know what that looks like. Maybe she will kill herself."_

 _He kept looking at the young woman he had trapped and said, "She won't. She's too scared to." He took her other wrist and pushed them both against the wall, hard. "You're too much of a coward to end your own suffering."_

 _Pain changed her features. It hurt her. He was right. She wanted someone to save her from the monsters she saw in them, because she couldn't do it herself._

" _Too much of a coward to fight," he whispered. He was almost physically hurting her now. "Look at you. Someone anyone could love? No. You haven't accomplished anything in life. You're a waste of space. A failure." He leaned in until he was sure she could feel his breath on her face. "Just end it." He let go of her wrists and placed his hands on her neck. "I can help."_

 _She now had her hands free, but she was paralyzed with fear. She couldn't move even if she wanted to._

" _We'd be doing everyone a favor."_

 _He felt the words echo in her head. He hadn't put them there, they had already been, like a shadow. Like the shadow he was casting onto her now. The one from the street lamp behind them that made her want to disappear in its darkness, never to be seen again._

" _I know, you know I'm right."_

 _She didn't want to hear that._

" _I can see it."_

 _She closed her eyes for a moment, blackness surrounding her._

" _Nobody will miss you." His voice distorted and cut into her like a knife. "You're utterly replaceable."_

 _Vandal moved again, this time to take another step. He was pressing her into the wall with his whole weight. Her eyes snapped back open. She was crying silently. Tears were running down her cheeks._

" _Yes, feel sorry for yourself, because there's no one who will do that for you."_

 _His smile changed. Her face was still stained with tears. The bottomless pit of both despair and sadness in her eyes had faded into nothingness. They had left them almost dead. And like this, she was beautiful to him. "You're so pretty when you cry," he spoke almost lovingly._

 _From the side, the black haired commented, "No, she's not pretty at all. But you're right, her tears are beautiful, even if the rest of her isn't."_

 _Vandal didn't look away from the woman he still had in his grasp. "Crying won't help you though. It won't make anyone care."_

 _He knew, she knew he was right and she was defeated by that knowledge. He had broken her._

 _He let go and she slipped down the wall, wrapping her arms around her knees. From the back pocket of his jeans, he pulled a knife and held it out to the wreck of a woman sitting on the ground, with a smile still on his lips._

 _She took it without really knowing why._

" _Do it," he said and waited._

 _The woman extends one of her arms and from underneath her skin, he could see writing surface on its own in black ink. It spelled out 'No'._

 _He began to speak again, but his words could no longer be heard. They were morphing into static._

 _To his side, the young woman turned into black smoke and disappeared. In front of him, the blond still sat motionless. The writing on her arm changing to 'Drained' before she started flickering in and out of existence. With every time she disappeared and reappeared she changed into a different person. All of them female, all of them with a different word written on their arm._

 _A smaller woman with brown hair, blue eyes and freckles. 'Stabbed'._

 _An Asian looking woman with long hair in a sequin dress. 'Drowned'._

 _A dark skinned woman in a green sweater. 'Shot'._

 _Another blond in a hoodie. 'Poisoned'._

 _An Indian girl in traditional clothing. 'Dismembered'._

 _They continued, switching from single words to almost full sentences. 'Pushed off a roof'. 'Run over by a car'. 'Bashed in skull'._

 _They kept switching, faster and faster, before they abruptly stopped and he recognized the black haired woman who had been standing beside him earlier. She raised her head and smirked at him almost arrogantly. The ink on her arm changed again._

' _Beatrix'._

" _Stand up," Vandal ordered her. "You don't get to sit down while I am doing all the work."_

 _She obeyed, but she did so intentionally slow, just to defy him a little. She laughed and stepped right in front of him. "Uh, you big, bad meanie. What were you gonna do about it, huh? Pull me up by my hair?" she mocked._

" _If I had to, yes," he growled._

" _You wouldn't dare."_

 _She flickered and was gone. He was now all alone in the alley and his own shadow seemed to grow and take a three dimensional form. An almost solid shadow version of himself._

 _It spoke with the voice of the demon. "Let go and relinquish your control. Give the beast what it wants. Let it take your soul and devour all that you are."_

 _It moved and passed into him, burning him from the inside out like acid._

He screamed; the sound of it waking him up.


	8. Part of the Network

**Chapter 007: Part of the Network**

He checked his alarm clock, just to see that it was mid-day. 2 PM to be precise. That gave him 3 hours until he had to be at the blood bank. He groaned and got ready before he texted Hannah to see if she had time this evening.

When he picked up his phone however, he noticed that the last message he had received from her had been shortly after she had left him yesterday morning, letting him know she was off to her first customer. A new referral. After that, silence. So he texted, 'Good day to you, princess. Did you collapse into bed after work yesterday? Want to meet up later in the evening if you got time? I'm free after 7.'

He hoped she would have time. He wanted to see her.

Before long, Vandal decided to leave his apartment for a bit and go outside.

He needed the fresh air. He had slept so long it would do him good. Maybe he would go to the pier, he wasn't quite sure yet. Grabbing his keys and making sure he had his phone, he just left without further contemplating the matter.

 _'Don't you feel great?' one of the voices asked him. 'Don't you feel wonderful? So much 'better' than you were before?'_

 _'But he was betrayed. He sh-'_ another voice started, and was cut off.

 _'Nobody 'betrayed' him!'_

Wrong. Because he did feel betrayed. He hadn't truly been given a choice. And Heather, she had known all along! She had 'played him'. She had-

A surge of fury burned through him so violently that he knew, if anything breakable had been in reach in his apartment, it would now be broken.

Had she known from the moment she had stumbled into the blood bank, screaming for someone to give her a fix?!

Oh, he would find out. He would squeeze the truth out of her with his bare hands if he had to. If she'd been 'lying' and 'acting' this entire time, he would make her suffer. She had dragged him into this mess! And he, he had been unable to see it. No one had ever managed to fucking lie to him like that. To make him believe 'everything' they had said.

He 'hated' being lied to more than anything.

Vandal kept walking through alleyways without really paying attention to where he was going. He didn't care where he was going at the moment.

He felt stressed. To be honest, he felt a bit like before he had started his therapy all those years ago. Right now, he didn't have his emotions under control. Almost like his teenage self. And they were rapidly shifting from one to another. He felt unstable.

 _'You'll be better in a few hours,'_ a soft female voice soothed him.

He noticed it was always the same set of different voices. They weren't random. So far, he counted five of them. Two male, less frequent, and three female ones.

They were never quiet for long. He would have to learn to enjoy the moments of silence in his head as best he could.

The female voices started giggling and one of them pointed out, _'Look where you are. Isn't that nice? You've arrived at the sleeping beauty's place.'_

Vandal stopped, only now realizing that he was standing right in front of the Asylum. 'Sleeping beauty?' Yeah, she was probably resting now, being a vampire and all.

'Kindred,' he reminded himself. That had been the word she had used.

Of course now, the club was closed. His hand wrapped around the door handle and he pushed it down.

To his utter surprise, the door opened. As he slowly peeked into the entrance hall of the club, he noted that the lights were on and that music was playing, although it was kept at a low volume.

He didn't know what compelled him to go in, his curiosity most likely, but he did so without hesitating.

As he entered and the bar came into view he recognized Cal, the bartender from yesterday.

He had sensed him, and looked up from the glass he was polishing.

"You didn't lock the door." Vandal grinned as surprise flicked across Cal's face, the tattoo on the side of it and his forehead distorting a bit.

He didn't comment on the unlocked door however. Instead he asked, "How did it go with Therese yesterday?"

"Alright," he curtly answered. Then he added, "You know when she'll be in tonight?"

"Yeah, Therese usually shows up right after sundown," he informed him. "Sometimes Jeanette shows up before she does. It's never guaranteed."

She had told him to stay away from her sister hadn't she?

"So what are you doing here this early?" Vandal inquired. This was unusual. The club only opened at a later hour if he remembered correctly.

"Oh, Therese had me check up on inventory. She always wants me to make sure we have enough liquor in store."

Behind him, he heard the door open and then fall shut again.

"To hell with these idiots! Cal, if I have to go there ever again, I'll personally bash their skulls in with the shoes they were too stupid to order in my size!"

The comment made him chuckle. Short tempered and hot headed was something he could relate to.

He heard a key turn in the lock and before he could speak, the young woman had already entered the club.

She stopped, black ballet shoes in hand. "Who's our visitor?" she questioned Cal.

He stared at her. She was wearing a black lace lyrical dress with several layers for its skirt, some long and flowing, others shorter. The dress was sleeveless and he could see that she had some muscle to her, even though she was built quite petite. On her right shoulder was a tattoo of a wingless dragon biting its tail and forming a circle. When his eyes finally had moved to her face he noted that she was wearing a blindfold, decorated with sequin. The ends of it were tied behind her head and had then been braided into her long, black, curly hair. The braid hung over her left shoulder and its end reached her chest. The red fabric looked like a streak of scarlet blood in it.

This was the same woman he had dreamed about. Even though her hair was longer and he couldn't see the entirety of her face, he was sure of it.

What had the ink on her arms said? "Beatrix?" He hadn't intended to speak aloud.

"How do you know my name?" Her head turned in the general direction of where his voice had come from.

Was she truly blind? A person with vision would have taken off the blindfold by now, he was pretty sure of that. However, she wasn't carrying a white cane.

"He had a meeting with Therese the day before. She probably mentioned you by name or something," Cal answered before Vandal could.

She hadn't, but he didn't mention that. He would play along.

"Hm. Oh well." She stepped a bit closer. "So, introduce yourself, as you already seem to know who I am." She smiled.

"I'm Vandal," he replied dryly. "Good to meet you."

As he was speaking, Beatrix stepped up to him and held out her hand. "Good to meet you too, Vandal." After a short squeeze, she walked past him towards the bar, skimmed one of the bar stools with her fingers and took a seat. "I guess you're stuck here until either me, or Cal unlock the door for you. You got urgent business to take care of, or would you like to stay for a while longer to watch me rehearse?"

For some reason, she got him interested enough to stay and watch. "I think I'll stay." He took a seat next to her.

She took off her sneakers and put on the ballet shoes. "Cal, can you give me my phone real quick?"

He handed it to her and teased, "Aren't you worried I'll eavesdrop again?"

She laughed, clearly amused. "If I was, I'd have also told you to hand me my earphones." She swiped a few different directions on her phone, but her screen stayed black. She ran her finger over the screen and her phone read out the button she had her finger on. 'Contacts'. She scrolled with two fingers until it announced 'Showing items 4 to 7 of 30'. She moved her finger on the screen until the phone said 'Janice'. She double tapped it. 'Showing buttons'. She again moved her finger on the screen until she had reached 'Call button' and double tapped that too. "Just one moment. Sorry I know it's impolite, but it's important." She put the phone to her ear and after just a few moments, Janice apparently picked up. "Hey. I'm good, thanks. I have a small favor to ask. Could you go and pick up my package from the neighbors? They left a voice mail for me. They're only here until tomorrow and I can't make it since I'm out of town currently." A pause, then, "Thanks, you're awesome. Till then!" She hung up and locked her phone before handing it back to Cal. "Thank you too."

"You're welcome."

Curiosity had gotten the better of Vandal. "So you're blind, but you're also a dancer?"

"Yes," she giggled. "Do you have doubts that I really am blind, because I seemingly came in without a cane? Well, it's standing at the entrance right next to the door."

"Therese didn't mention you were blind. She hired you right?" he lied.

"I first met her sister, Jeanette. She pitched me to Therese. It was Jeanette who trained me here. Took a while until I finally got down the boundaries of the stage and the dance floor, but now I know this place as well as my own home back in LA and my apartment here in Santa Monica. So I guess you could say it was Jeanette who hired me, Therese's just the one who's writing my paychecks."

From what he was hearing, Jeanette couldn't be as bad as Therese made her out to be if she was willing to help a blind person get a job as a dancer.

"How long have you been blind? And what have you been diagnosed with, if you don't mind me asking." This was genuine interest. He had always enjoyed medical school back when he was still in training and he cherished the chance to actually speak with someone who had a medical condition. He had only ever been able to read about stuff that wasn't in his field.

"A while. I developed my blindness after a car accident about 9 years ago, had a traumatic brain injury. The optic nerves in my eyes got damaged quite badly. I used to be a trained dancer before my blindness. I'm grateful I still get to do what I like, even if it's on a smaller scale. I have remaining vision, but it's not really worth mentioning since it's not enough to make me function as effectively as any sighted person, obviously."

He was slightly disappointed. He kind of had hoped she had had a degenerative eye disease from birth. "Well, you seem to be very well adjusted. Glad to see you still get to go on doing your original profession."

"Thanks." She got up from the stool and walked across the dance floor and stepped onto the stage.

Cal switched the music to a modern instrumental piece that had synthetic sounds and violin mixed, which made it sound quite interesting. It strangely fit the style of music that was usually playing at the club, though it was a bit different.

It was a roughly 5 minute performance. He had to admit, that she was very good. The jagged dance moves matched the more edgy parts of the music and became flowing, almost trance like during the softer more melodic parts with the violin. The whole thing was filled with contrast and he actually liked it. He hadn't expected to. It usually wasn't his thing.

Beatrix came back to them with a smile on her face. "How did you guys like it?"

"It's usually not my type of thing, but this, I actually enjoyed because it was different," he answered truthfully.

She bowed. "Thanks."

Cal laughed. "You know what I think of it. I kept telling you the last few times."

"Aw."

They kept talking about this and that, while Cal finished polishing glasses and sorted all the liquors and drinks in the bar.

"Do you remember what you look like?" Vandal inquired.

"The image that pops into my head is very faded and blurry, so I have to answer, not really. It's insane how quick your visual memory fades. It's only shapes, light and shadow and very little color. I know from descriptions, but you could line up five girls with the same one and they'd all look different, so I guess it doesn't really matter. I know I have black hair, and I obviously know it's curly and long from touching it. I also know I'm a bit smaller than average people and I have light skin." She shrugged.

He didn't know why he had such an urge to see her face, especially her eyes. "Any chance you could take off the blindfold?"

"Sure. It's pretty hot under there anyway." She undid her entire braid and then removed the blindfold. She brushed through her hair with her fingers. It nicely framed her face, flowing past her shoulders and onto her chest like black silk. Her eyes, surprisingly, were very light, pale blue.

"It's almost a pity you don't remember what you look like," Vandal grinned. "You're pretty. And your eyes are even lighter than mine."

"Oh, yes I almost forgot they're quite unusual." She laughed, clearly happy to have been complimented. "By the way, what did you come here for? Needed to speak to Therese?"

"Yeah, I'll come in later to bring her some paperwork from the hospital," he lied again for the second time.

"Oh, in that case, I'll probably see you later." She smirked, then added, "Oh wait, I guess I won't. My bad."

He actually laughed at that. "Well, I certainly will. I'll talk to you later, if you're not busy dancing."

"Oh, I'll take a break for you. Find me when you're back. It was really nice meeting you." She took a step forward and opened her arms.

Under any other circumstances, he would have refused the hug, but he didn't want to refuse her, partly because she was disabled.

Beatrix wrapped her arms around him and he hugged back. Grinning, she told him, "You're small for a guy." She rested her head on his shoulder for a second. "And you have long hair." She let go and giggled. "I'll go get the door for you."

She unlocked it for him and indeed, like she had said, her white cane leaned against the wall next to the entrance. "Until later."

He nodded goodbye, just to remember she couldn't see that. "See ya." Once he had stepped outside he heard her lock the door again.

He checked his phone. Still no message from Hannah and over an hour until he had to be at the clinic.

He sighed and decided to go to the pier.

There was not a lot of people around when he arrived. Most of them were sitting at the ice cream parlor. He checked and sat down on a bench near enough to watch the people sitting there.

Some couples, a group of teenagers, a family with kids, nothing unusual. What caught his attention however was a young woman with her blond hair tied into a ponytail, wearing a t-shirt that was at least 2 or 3 sizes too big for her, tucked into her ripped, baggy jeans. She was sitting there all alone, a bit off to the side and away from the other guests. Also, she wasn't drinking or eating anything. She was just sitting there, looking a bit sad.

 _'_ _Play with her.'_

 _'_ _You know you want to.'_

Yes, he did. But he wanted to keep watching her for a bit longer.

He kept observing for a full ten minutes. A waiter had walked up to her and she had shaken her head when asked if she wanted to order. She had checked her phone two times. And Vandal was sure, she had been waiting for someone who now wasn't coming.

 _'_ _The whole world is your playground. All these people are your personal toys to do with as you please. Manipulate and break them to your liking.'_

The words put a smile on his face. The demon was 'right'.

The woman stood up and put her phone away again. She was walking into his direction, albeit on the other side of the street.

Perfect. He would follow her a bit, just for fun, to see if she even noticed.

He walked at a distance behind her with his head lowered. He tailed her away from the pier, down two block, taking a left, then a few more blocks, right to her apartment complex. As she turned right to walk to her door, he just kept walking, but quickly checked over his shoulder to see if she would open one of the mailboxes, and if, which one.

Yes. She lived on the first floor. Her mailbox was the one to the left. And in this moment, he knew he now had a new game to play. He would keep watching her. If he got to, he would go through her mail and he would learn everything he could about her. He would try to find out if she would be missed and if not, then she would vanish off the face of the earth one way or another. He had marked her as his prey and she had gone to the top of his list.

He circled back around to the clinic and checked the time again. He had managed to kill enough of it that it was now quarter to 5.

He took the back door to the blood bank and went downstairs.

"Too bad you're stuck with night shifts now. I wonder who the new addition to the team is. Miss Voerman said she'd find someone to do the early shifts with me."

This was Bill talking and Vandal realized he could 'very clearly' hear him through the closed door of the reception booth.

He entered and both Bill and Phil looked surprised to find him here at this hour.

Immediate questioning from Phil commenced. "What are you doing here? Did something come up we didn't hear about?"

He shook his head. "Not really, I'm just supposed to take Heather Poe's blood samples every 3 days. Didn't Miss Voerman inform you?"

Bill shook his head. "No, but look she sent an email with our new schedules. You and Phil are stuck with night shifts. Like, for real at night. Look at the times! She has you guys doing inventory and everything during that. And me and someone new will be taking the donations during the day. She wrote that she thinks it will make the blood bank run more efficiently if the work is split like this." He paused for a moment, then continued, "She also left a message for you in a separate mail… It's encrypted. Hope you know who the hell her associate is, because apparently that's the password."

He sat down in front of the computer to read the first email as well.

She had really set up their schedules so that they only worked from after sundown to a few hours before sunrise.

And as usual Bill and Phil were talking. He growled, "Could you two leave me to read this in peace for 5 minutes?"

"Of course."

When they had left, he entered the password for the second email. She had sent him a detailed description of what blood types to take from the hospital supplies to sell and which bags to sell at which prices. She specifically ordered him to memorize it all and delete the email after. 'Print the email if you need to, but do not leave the information on here.' So he did and put the folded paper into the pocket of his jeans. Phil and him had their work cut out for them. They would spend the majority of Saturday night sorting through the bags.

A knock on the window made him turn.

He almost didn't recognize her. Heather had dyed her hair black and she wasn't wearing her glasses. She had put on winged eyeliner and red lipstick. Her yellow shirt and jeans had been replaced with a midnight blue pencil dress.

"Hey Vandal," she greeted him. She was in an exceptionally good mood.

"One second, Heather." He opened the door of the booth and shouted for Bill and Phil to come back. When they saw Heather, Bill almost stared at her.

"Damn, you look great," he told her.

Heather grinned and Vandal took note that her grin was eerily like his. "Well, thank you."

Bill opened his mouth again, but Heather cut him off. "You don't want to ask that."

"You don't even know what I was gonna ask," he laughed.

"Don't even think about it. If those words leave your mouth I'll 'rip your throat out'," she threatened.

Bill looked a bit like she had punched him in the face. "What the fuck?"

She smiled. "Good, now you think I'm crazy again. Keep it that way."

He shook his head.

Vandal stepped out into the hallway to Heather. "Well, come on then. We can't have you threaten my coworkers like that. I'm the only one allowed to do that." He lowered his voice. "I have a bone to pick with you still." He didn't lead her to the area where they usually took donations. He took her to a back room that had a hospital cot and a few cupboards with supplies. He didn't want to have this conversation anywhere where they could be overheard.

He closed the door behind them and told Heather to sit down on the cot. "I hate being played. You 'lied' to me, Heather. How long have you known?"

She didn't look sorry anymore, unlike yesterday. "From the first day I came down to the blood bank with my arms bleeding, screaming to get fixed. Kevin and Therese have been working together for quite a while and I was part of their plan all along. They used me to get to you. Each night, Kevin snuck in to see me and had me report on the day. He told me to go here and get as much info on you as I could. So I did."

Vandal's eyes narrowed. "So your warning not to drink the coffee, was that also a lie? Did you know I'd just drink it anyway, because you made me think you're crazy?" He stepped closer, remembering what she had said to Bill earlier. "Are you?" He looked into Heather's eyes. He would know if she lied now.

"I am." She didn't look away and as she spoke the words, something deep within them seemed to stir, something dark. For a moment, she looked unhinged. _'_ _She is. Just like you.'_ "Just like you. It's in their blood. They pass their madness onto us. Their curse is also a blessing."

Truth, all of it, even if he didn't understand the meaning of her words.

"For my warning, it was real. I paid dearly for doing that. I disobeyed a direct order." She lifted her dress to reveal her thighs and on one of them, was a huge burn mark. It looked like someone had pressed a burning hot metal disk onto the front of her leg. "If you want my advice. From what I've seen and heard, don't do anything that could remotely displease Therese. She's far worse than Kevin. And stay clear of Jeanette. I met her once. I never want to meet her again."

"What was that curse you talked about?" he wanted to know.

"You hear them, right? Whispers? If you listen close enough they tell you things. Sometimes in your dreams, sometimes when you're awake. Sometimes it's the truth, sometimes they lie. You have to learn how to sort the bullshit from the wisdom."

He didn't comment on it, but he had taken note of what she had said.

Vandal eyed the burn on her leg again. "Did speed up the healing process? It still looks really bad still."

"I did, but this is as fast as it will go. Bullet wounds, knives, whatever. Don't get burned. It's harder to heal. I don't know why." She covered it with her dress again.

"Thanks for the warning." He had expected to be furious, but somehow he was only slightly angry with her. She too, had been played, more or less.

He took out everything he needed to take her sample and Heather complacently gave him her arm. The words she had carved into her skin had completely healed and the scars were not reddened anymore. "He force you to do that to yourself?"

Heather shook her head. "He refused to let me drink for a night after the month was over and I cut them into my arms. I didn't lie when I said I don't remember doing it. I was going insane with withdrawal."

That didn't sound good. "So it's really addicting?" He had already suspected that.

"Yes." She watched as he got ready to take her blood. "You're going to see her again later when you bring that in right?"

"I will." He placed the needle on her arms and drove it in. "That almost sounds like you want to come with me," he grumbled. "That why you dressed so nicely and did your face?"

Heather laughed. "That's almost cute you think I want to come with you to see that two faced bitch again. Or did you think I wanted to ask you to have a few drinks at the club with me later? Nah, none of my money is going into any of her ventures."

"I don't drink." He wanted to know why she had dressed up. "So where are you going then? Because you look ready for a special occasion."

"I'm going downtown. I'm meeting with a friend."

 _'_ _LIE!'_ The voice screamed it so loud it almost made Vandal wince and pull out the needle with the tube too early.

"Why would you lie about this?" His voice filled with malice. "Let 'me' give 'you' some advice. If I ever catch you lying to me again, you will regret it 'dearly'." It wasn't an empty threat. He would hurt her if she did. _'_ _Knife in your back.'_ He pushed his thumb down on the needle in her arm so she would feel where it sat in her vein. "Believe me when I say, I am quite creative and I 'know' how to cause pain even with just a needle." He could see her face contort in discomfort as he pressed down even harder. "I could blow your vein right now."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," Heather spoke quickly, clearly creeped out now. "I'm not supposed to tell anyone what I'm really doing downtown. Please don't make me tell you."

 _'_ _Make her tell you.'_

 _'_ _He shouldn't.'_

 _'_ _Don't.'_

 _'_ _Please, do it.'_

"You're lucky I don't really care what you're doing, so I won't ask." He removed the tourniquet and gently pulled out the needle. He sealed the tube and pocketed it.

Heather was about to get up, but he ordered, "Stay seated."

"Why? I feel fine," she protested.

 _'_ _Don't argue with him! He's being so generous. So 'patient' after all you've done.'_

"I know. I want to take a closer look at that burn while you're here." He moved over to the cupboards again and found some antibiotic ointment and a bandage.

"Oh, okay. Thanks." She lifted her dress again.

 _'_ _Yes, thank him. You should be thanking him 'on your knees'!'_

It was still red and there were a few blisters. "I'm going to put some ointment on it and bandage it. I want you to do this once or twice per day at home for a week to make sure it doesn't get infected."

She nodded. "I will."

When he was done, he handed her the ointment. "Take it with you."

A bit perplexed she took it. "Won't anyone miss that?"

"Nothing here is ever missed." And with that, he sent her back out to be on her way.

Back at the reception Bill was waiting for him. "Did you sent her out with stuff from the clinic?!"

"I did. You didn't see the massive burn she had on her leg."

"Why did the guys upstairs let her out of the ward anyway?" Bill questioned. "Seems like a mistake to me."

"I don't know, and I don't care," Vandal huffed. "I'm outta here. I'll be stopping by again in 3 days." He didn't give Bill a chance to even say goodbye. He just turned and left.

He went home before he went back to the Asylum. Still Hannah hadn't written and he was starting to worry. Not get suspicious, like he usually would have. No, he was genuinely worried. Especially with what the voices had said before she had left. He tried to push it down, but he could only dampen the feeling.

There was almost nobody at the club this early. When he entered, Cal greeted him with a genuine smile. "Hey, Vandal. You know who couldn't stop talking about you?"

"Beatrix?" It confused him. What possible reason could she have for talking about him?

"Absolutely. Said and I quote, 'He's the most awesome guy I ever met! Even laughed at my blind joke! He wasn't uncomfortable at all!'"

Vandal grinned, "I guess that's one of the nicest things anyone ever said about me."

Cal ignored that. "Therese is in her office."

"Thanks. I'll be back in a minute."

He took the elevator up and knocked on Therese's door.

"Enter."

He did. Therese was sitting in front of her computer with a look of frustration on her face.

"Do you have the blood sample?" she asked and looked up at him.

Vandal walked over and handed it to her, "Of course, Miss Voerman. I also got your email and did just as you instructed."

"Very well." She sighed. "Please, have a seat, Vandal."

As her eyes left him again he felt a slight sting. He wanted her to keep looking at him. Acknowledge his presence, make him feel important.

"I spoke with Beatrix earlier, and apparently the two of you have already met. She told me you watched her performance. Please, tell me, what's your opinion? It was my sister's idea to hire her. Do you think she'll be an asset to the club and bring in more people?"

"I do, Miss Voerman. The performance is very unusual, but it is very interesting to watch. Beatrix herself is quite unique in my honest opinion. I think it's a good choice. She also seems to be really good with people. Your bartender gets along with her well."

"I'm pleased to hear that." For a moment she was silent. "I have a few other matters to discuss with you. One of them in regards to the blood you're going to be selling. I only scratched the surface with what I wrote in my email."

Vandal sat and listened to what she was explaining to him for over 30 minutes. She was telling him about the different clans and sects, the Masquerade, the Camarilla, the Anarchs, a group called Sabbat, more about ghouls and their capabilities and talked at length about how for instance a wealthy person with a PhD and upper class people had blood of a higher quality and better taste, which he was to sell as 'blue blood' and save up for Ventrue customers and a few bags each he was to bring to her personally once a month.

What surprised him most though, was the small fact that she apparently only drank the blood from wine glasses.

 _'_ _Spoiled like a queen.'_

 _'_ _She's a bitch.'_

 _'_ _Queen Bitch.'_

"Do you have any questions?" Miss Voerman asked. "Let me be clear, you are to ask when you don't understand something. I want everything to run smoothly."

He did have a question, yes. "What do I do if supplies run low, or out?"

She smiled. "I'm sure you'll find someone to unwillingly part with all their blood. Just make sure they won't be missed. I do have ties to the police around here, but I'd rather not have to make use of that."

Perfect. Heather had been right. He was getting to do the things he never could before but always wanted to. "I will, you don't need to worry."

"Good, if you don't have any more questions you may leave now. Tell Beatrix to talk to my sister at around 11 tonight. I will let her know that she's to be here."

"Of course. Good night, Miss Voerman."

She only gave a curt nod and he hurried out, sensing her becoming slightly annoyed.

Downstairs at the bar again, he sat down to Cal grinning. "A minute, eh? Did she give you a full lecture? You were up there for over half an hour."

"She went over the documents with me. All the hospital supplies, boring stuff," he lied.

"I bet only boring for you," Beatrix chimed from the side, walking over. She had her blindfold on again, but this time she hadn't braided the ends of it into her hair. She had pulled it into a ponytail and secured it with a hair tie. "I'd like to hear about it. What kind of supplies? Does she have you counting blood bags?" She laughed and took the seat next to him.

Did she know he worked at the blood bank? He was tempted to answer yes, just to see her reaction and so he did. "Yes. We regularly have to do inventory and Miss Voerman checks on all her ventures." It wasn't even a lie. She did.

Cal turned his attention back to a customer approaching the bar.

"I kinda wanna hold a blood bag, just once. Just to know what that's like. Can I come to the blood bank to hold one?" she giggled.

"Absolutely not, no."

"How can you refuse the blind girl?" she asked in a pleading voice. But her plea was only halfhearted. She didn't seem to have really mean it in the first place. She had said it as a joke.

"Well, watch me," he retorted.

"Uhm, how exactly am I gonna do that?" she laughed. "Are you going to lend me your eyesight?"

"Smartass," he half growled, half chuckled. He had to watch his words around her, she wasn't stupid and she payed attention to details.

"Thanks! So now, you gonna give me your sight?"

And she also noted that he hadn't answered her. "I wouldn't if it would make me blind instead." He paused and thought for a moment. "If it were possible to have a cure for your blindness, would you take it?"

"No."

She couldn't see the shock on his face, but she could clearly hear it in his voice. "What do you mean, 'no'?"

She sighed, "I feel like it would be a step back. Frantically looking for a cure doesn't help anyone. We tried so many things and nothing worked. I know such a thing doesn't and probably won't exist. Hoping for it doesn't help me. I've learned so much in the time I've been blind. About myself and other people. I'm looking forward to the future and to me it doesn't matter if I'm blind. I'm enjoying my life and I'm still doing things I like. Dwelling on hypothetical questions like that serves no purpose."

For a moment, he was speechless. He had never expected an answer like this.

"Being blind is really hard sometimes, I won't deny that. You get used to it though, and then you just get on with your life even if it's different than before." She smiled at him.

"Well, I gotta say, you are inspiring." He really thought so.

"Thank you, Vandal. That means a lot."

"You're welcome." He looked her over again and for a moment, he wondered if she would even notice if he reached out towards her without actually touching her. "By the way, Therese told me to tell you that you're to speak with Jeanette around 11 PM tonight."

"Great, I will do that!"

"You seem to like her," he noted quite amused. "I've never met her, but I've had people tell me to stay away from her."

"Jeanette is quite eccentric and quite unique," Beatrix said. She sounded like she admired her. "Reminds me a bit of myself. She's definitely weird at times, but a completely different kind of weird."

"You think you're weird?" So what the hell was he then?

 _'_ _Insane.' 'Infected with madness.'_

Beatrix nodded. "I am. Bet you thought so when I said no to that cure."

"Not really. You explained and I understand where you're coming from."

"If you could, just for a day, give me your eyesight," she rephrased the question from earlier, "would you then do it?"

He felt like his answer to the question would be weighed against a measure he didn't know. "Maybe if I knew you better. As of now, the answer is still no."

Her smile changed. For but a fraction of a second it turned triumphant and he did not understand why.

"Very good." Her voice had a completely different tone to it now. There was a kind of satisfaction in it, as if his reply had been something she had wanted for a long time and now finally gotten. "You're one of the few people with a brain. You're good with me."

"Yeah, people with brains are really hard to come by these days," he growled in frustration even at the thought. "Thanks for the compliment."

"No need to thank me for that."

"You said you have a bit of vision left. Can you describe what you see?" he asked. He was quite curious about that.

"Hm… Take my sequin blindfold for instance. When a bright light hits it just right, I can kind of see it. An extremely blurry rectangle that's red, even though a very faded, desaturated red, and shimmery. But I can't really make out smaller details. If you stood in front of a window with sunlight pouring in, I could make out your silhouette."

Interesting.

Beatrix turned to him on her stool. "Do you want to play a game, Vandal?" she grinned.

"Don't you have to go back to work, I don't think you have time to play right now." She was strange. And what the hell kind of game was she even talking about anyway?

"Trust me, I got time for now. So, how about it, yes or no?"

He shook his head and sighed. "Fine, what kind of game do you want to play?"

"I ask you a few questions, and you either make stuff up, or tell me the truth. Then I try to guess which of your answers were lies."

How was that gonna work with her being unable to see his face?

"You get to ask the questions after," she giggled.

"Fine, shoot then."

"How old are you?" she asked.

"31," he answered truthfully.

"Do you have siblings?"

"I had a sister." He did not like talking about it. Thankfully Beatrix didn't comment on the fact he had said 'had'.

"Are you scared of dying and if you could live forever would you like to?"

He wasn't. And now that he thought of it, he now had the chance to live forever. Therese had said by drinking her blood he wouldn't age anymore, as long as he kept drinking it once a month. "I'm not scared of dying, but I'm not sure if I'd want to live forever. I feel like it would get boring after a long time."

She surprisingly called out his lie. "Your last statement wasn't true. You think the opposite. You'd love to watch as all the brainless tools that walk the earth eventually expired, one way or another, as you just kept moving on without a care in the world."

How could she know that? How could she have 'possibly' know that?

"I'm a very good judge of character," Beatrix laughed, probably assuming from the silence that he was in shock. "Your silence speaks volumes."

He wasn't in shock. He was suspicious now.

 _'_ _She's older and more experienced than she looks…'_ the voices whispered.

"My turn to ask you questions then." His voice had dropped slightly. "And I need you to take off the blindfold."

"You're able to read faces?" she sounded uncomfortable all of a sudden, but she didn't refuse to take it off. She did and ran her finger over the sequin.

"I am." He reached out for her hand and felt her tense. He wasn't touching her yet, but she clearly seemed to feel his intention. She looked like she was about to pull her hand back, when he placed his over hers. "Why are you so nervous? Do you have something to hide?"

Yes, yes, she definitely had. "No, I don't. It just makes me nervous because there's stuff I don't like talking about, and I'm worried you'll pry if you know I'm not telling the truth."

 _'_ _She has a lot of secrets.'_

"Lie. You do have something to hide. I just don't know what it is yet."

He saw her swallow. He was right and she seemed almost worried by the fact that he knew. "How old are 'you'."

"29."

 _'_ _But she got there slower.'_ He didn't know what that meant.

"Okay." He thought about the next question he wanted to ask. "Would you trust me enough to let me sighted guide you to a place of your choosing?"

"Only after letting Cal know where I'm going and when I'll be back. I don't trust you enough just yet. A healthy dose of distrust, as you well know, may save your skin one day." She wasn't fidgeting anymore. She turned the hand he had placed his over and curled her fingers around it. "Maybe the two of us will get to know each other well enough to know 'when' to trust the other and when not to."

He had the feeling that she wanted to get to know him and for once he didn't mind. She was interesting enough to make him want to find out more about her. "Maybe we will."

Now she was smiling again and then randomly asked, "Well, I think I'd like that. Wanna go to the diner across the street with me after my shift ends tonight? I was going anyway. I'd like the company."

He quickly checked his phone. Still no message from Hannah, so she probably wouldn't be able to make it tonight, even if she wrote at all. "Fine, what time?"

"11:15. Just wait in front of the diner. I'll come right after I talked to Jeanette." She released his hand. "I should get back to work. I can't wait to talk again later."

"Likewise." To find out who she really was and what she was hiding. To make her spill all her secrets to him.

He stood up. "See you later, Beatrix."

"Till later, Vandal."

He stepped outside and hoped she would tell him what Jeanette had talked about with her later. If his strange dream was to be trusted, they would end up getting to know each other well enough to… To do what together? What had they been doing? Who had the blond in his dream been? Moreover, how could he even think his dream could have any meaning at all or been a premonition.

 _'_ _Because Therese told him it is quite possible. That the gift of insight in her blood, now runs through his veins in part as well.'_

 _Heather had mentioned something similar as well, hadn't she? That the whispers would tell him things? And that he 'only needed to sort the bullshit from the wisdom'?_

He let out a frustrated growl. Then he went home for the second time today.


	9. The Blind Girl at the Diner

**The Blind Girl at the Diner**

11:15 came around quicker than he had thought. And after Hannah had still not written he had decided that if he didn't hear from her until the next night he would go to her place to make sure she was ok.

He was waiting in front of the diner, just like Beatrix had asked him. She came over and he noticed that she had changed clothes. She was wearing simple jeans and a black t-shirt.

"Hello," he greeted her and watched as a smile spread on her face.

"You really came. I'm glad. Shall we go in?"

"Of course. Have you eaten here before?" he asked, as he watched her take up the stairs and hold the door for him with a self satisfied grin.

"Nope. You'll have to tell me what's on the menu, because I doubt they print that in braille."

She followed him, his footsteps on the floor apparently enough for her to walk with only minimal use of her cane.

He sat down in the back of the diner, tapping the bench opposite to him with his foot. "Have a seat."

It made her giggle. She giggled quite a lot, now that he thought of it.

"You're a natural, already giving me audio cues," she said. Complimented, really.

"Why, thank you." He quickly went over the menu for her.

"I'll take the pancakes. Haven't had any in ages. How about you?"

"The bacon and eggs sandwich."

They didn't have to wait long for the waitress to take their order and their food arrived quickly. As she set down Beatrix's plate, he let her know, "If you manage to eat all of this, I have no idea where you're putting it all." He was quite amused.

"Well, if I don't manage to eat it all, feel free to have yourself some free dessert, namely the rest of my pancakes," she laughed.

"Nah, judging from the amount of food I have on my own plate, I'm pretty sure I will be struggling by the time I finished mine."

"Well either way, enjoy." She probed the pile of pancakes with her fork, then dug in.

"You too."

After a while, Vandal noticed that Beatrix was trying really hard to keep herself from smiling. "What is it? You look like something is amusing you to no end."

"I can hear you eating even over the music." She did smile now. "I don't mind, it lets me know you're still there."

"Have you had people just walk away from you?"

"More than once. And I stood there, talking to nobody, looking like a fool, or a crazy person." There was the slightest hint of sadness in her voice.

"That sucks. I'm sorry to hear that."

She sighed. "Well it can't be helped, I guess it's bound to happen. One of the worse parts of being blind… I prefer focusing on the positive though. It hasn't happened all that often lately. I have gotten better at sensing if someone is still there or not."

"Well, I won't walk out on you, don't worry." He was curious about the dress she'd been wearing earlier. "Did you pick the dress yourself?"

"Yes, I had my friend Janice help me with that. She helps me with picking out clothes in general. If she's not there, I just ask customers at the store for colors and sizes. To be honest, most of my shirts are black, or dark in color."

"Makes it easier when you're washing things, right? That way you don't have to worry about accidentally putting something in there that didn't belong and having it bleed." Something so simple could already pose problems for her. He had never really thought about it before until now.

"Absolutely. Although I would be able to sort shirts by color if they had different textures and textiles used, I just need to memorize what Janice tells me their colors are."

"Do you read?"

"Yes, I brailled the entire Harry Potter series!" she sounded so excited. "Have you read them?"

"Unfortunately, I didn't."

"Pity. They were great. Don't you read at all, or is fantasy just not your kind of genre?" she wanted to know.

"I read, even fantasy, I just couldn't bring myself to start reading the Harry Potter books, because it would take me ages to finish the series."

"Ah, I quite understand."

"So, did Jeanette have anything interesting to say?" he casually asked, steering the conversation down the path he wanted it to go.

"Yes." And none of them she was going to tell to him without him having to pry them out of her.

"For instance?"

It took a moment before she answered him. "That none of them are to be discussed with anyone, if I know what's good for me."

"She 'threatened' you?"

"She did," she spoke quietly. "And I'm not going to make the mistake and talk behind her back. Because she will find out if I did…" She paused, then asked him, "Ever broken a promise and told someone something you were not supposed to just to have it come back and bite you in the ass?"

"No, because I don't usually talk to people. I'm a very private person. All the secrets I keep locked away in the deepest, darkest corners of my heart."

"Good on you. I made the mistake once. I never will again." She hesitated and Vandal thought she was contemplating whether or not to tell him this particular story, but she didn't. "I have a really strange question for you, Vandal."

"Okay."

"Have you ever felt so misunderstood and wrongly judged that you'd rather be alone in the world than have to deal with the people in it? Ever tried to explain yourself, just knowing they will 'never' understand no matter how hard you try?" He heard frustration and sadness in her voice.

"I have."

"Then I'm sure you also know what it feels like when you finally find someone who doesn't judge you and understands, or at least tries to understand you?"

Where was she going with this? "Yes."

"Good. Now imagine that person leaving you for something that happened to you that was out of your control. Something that scarred you. And they left because they couldn't deal with it, because it was too much for them. How would that make you feel? If they left you while you were still going through it. When you hadn't recovered from what scarred you yet."

"I think I would be disappointed. Probably be even more hurt than I already was."

She smiled a sad smile. "I was 'angry'. It made me say horrible things to her. First time I ever realized that words could be even sharper than a knife." Her smile changed, it turned vile. "I don't regret what I said to her. The only thing I regret is not being able to see her face as I said them."

Not what he had expected at all. "You hate her for leaving you. I can see it in your face." It didn't matter that he didn't know who she was talking about. He felt like she had wanted to get this off her chest for a long while and the look of utter hatefulness was something he appreciated.

"Yes. She left me when I was at my weakest. She abandoned me. I still hate her even now. I think I always will. I'm not even sorry she's gone." The amount of spite in her voice rivaled his own.

"And you shouldn't be. If she left you hanging like that she was never a real friend to you in the first place," he said.

"I should have clarified. She's dead. She killed herself a week after." There was no emotion in her voice. She didn't care.

"I still stand by my previous statement."

"You're not even shocked," she noted, surprised. "From the way you said you'd feel about her leaving I would have expected you to feel differently about that fact."

"You don't sound heartbroken, so there's no need for me to offer fake condolences or try to comfort you."

Beatrix rested her chin on her hand. "How refreshing to have someone who's this brutally honest."

He let out a short laugh. "You've heard so many 'sorry's' that you've become numb to them, haven't you? That you stopped believing them."

"Yes. I've also had people call me heartless when I did tell them that I wasn't sorry she's gone. I mean, it's not like I don't get their point of view, but almost no one ever seems to get mine." She sighed. She now looked exhausted.

"I quite understand." What he said next was a rare thing coming from him. "I'm glad you didn't try to make yourself care. I'm glad you didn't try to lie to yourself about how you feel. It would have made you lose yourself and turned you into something that's better off destroyed."

She nodded. "I agree."

Silence fell between them for a while and eventually the waitress came back and they paid their bills.

"Vandal?" She spoke so quietly that he almost didn't hear her.

"Yes?"

"Can you guide me home?" Why was she speaking so quietly? She wasn't raising her voice to a normal volume again.

So now she did trust him enough to let him walk her home? "I can. Should I feel honored?"

"Thank you. Yeah, maybe a tiny bit."

"Well, then let's go," he grinned.

They exited the diner and Beatrix let him know where her apartment was. It wasn't far, not even a five minute walk away from the Asylum.

"Would you like to come in?" she asked when they had arrived. "Bet you're curious about my apartment, aren't you?"

He was. "Yes, I'd like to."

"Well, then follow me." She unlocked the front door and he walked into the hallway behind her.

The first thing he noticed was that the elevator buttons had braille on them. They took it to the second floor and Beatrix led him to the last door on the right.

"Welcome, to my humble home," she smiled and opened the door.

He didn't know what he had expected, but her apartment looked just like any other. Apart from the books she had on her shelves. They were all in braille. She had a lot of them.

"Aren't the books super expensive?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, but it's alright. I'm lucky my friends and family gave them to me." She folded her cane and placed it next to the entrance, then she made her way into the kitchen. "Want something to drink? I could make tea, or coffee."

"I'm good, thank you."

"Okay, well I'm gonna make myself some tea, you don't mind right? Feel free to look around the apartment and ask me if anything peaks your curiosity."

He heard her fill the electric kettle with water and turn it on. "I'll just sit down on the couch until you're done. You live alone, right?"

"Okay, make yourself at home," she chuckled. "I do live alone, yes. Janice comes over once or twice a week though, just to make sure I'm ok."

"Do you like cooking?"

"Yes, I really enjoy it. Do you?" She opened a drawer and got a tea bag out of the package, put it in her glass and poured the boiling water over it.

"I do. Since I'm guessing you're kind of a sweet tooth, ever had banana flambe? It's really good. A friend did that a few days ago for dessert when we were cooking together."

Beatrix sat down next to him with her cup. He took note that she didn't have a small table in front of her sofa like most people he knew. Probably because that would be considered a tripping hazard. "I never had it, it sounds delicious. Obviously I don't use a burner, if I did I would probably set my apartment on fire."

"If you ask me nicely, I could make some for you some time," he teased.

She smiled and turned to him further on the couch. "Would you make me banana flambe some time, please? I would love that! I would get down on my knees and kiss your feet if that's what it took."

It was said as a joke, but he suspected that she really would if he answered yes while making it sound like he thought it was funny. "You don't need to beg me on your knees. If you have a day off during the week, we could arrange something. I work night shifts at the blood bank starting Saturday. 9 PM to 3 AM."

"Great! Text me then, since I'm also working night shifts. I'm sure we can work out a time that suits us both." She gave him her number and he saved it on his phone. Then she took a sip of her tea. He hit the call button. The vibration alarm went off. She had her phone in her pocket still. "That was you right?"

"It was."

"Ok."

"What are you drinking?" He couldn't tell by the smell.

"Jasmine tea." She held out the cup to him. "Wanna try it? It's good."

"Sure, why not." She wasn't lying, it was good. "It's very mild, but I like it."

She took the cup again and her head turned to the side as if she'd heard something. Before he could ask her what she'd heard though, there was a knock on the door. Not the doorbell. Just someone knocking.

"Are you expecting someone?" he asked.

"No. This is unusual. Maybe it's one of the neighbors, but why would they want anything from me at this hour?" She was suspicious now. "Come to the door with me? I don't trust the whole situation."

He did.

"Who's there?" Beatrix asked and she sounded aggressive when she said it too. Better let whoever was out there know that she wasn't too happy about this.

"A little bird told me that you brought a guest to your home."

Vandal immediately recognized the voice.

"Who are you?" Beatrix asked. She turned to Vandal. "Do you know this guy?"

"I met him exactly once before."

"My name is Kevin. The Voerman sisters sent me to speak with you and Vandal. Lucky for me you're both here. Will you let me in, Beatrix? I don't think Jeanette would be pleased if she heard you didn't open your door for me." His voice held the slightest bit of impatience.

"Is there anyone else with you?" she asked him, caution overtaking her.

"I'm alone. Have Vandal check for you if it makes you more at ease."

"No, it's fine." She opened the door.

Kevin walked in straight towards the sofa, stopping in front of it. "Please, have a seat, both of you."

She closed the door and they sat down again, Beatrix still with her cup in hand.

Kevin, as well sat down, cross legged on the floor and his eyes found Vandal's. He had only seen Kevin from across the room at the clinic, but up this close he noted that his eyes with their two strange, different colors were almost translucent. Like last time he had seen him, he was wearing black pants, but this time he had a midnight blue button up shirt on. Vandal had to admit that he looked quite handsome. He could have been a model, no problem.

"Before we start however, I'd like to thank you for treating Heather's injury."

Vandal nodded. "You're welcome."

"I felt sorry after. I don't think I ever told her." There was real pain in his voice. "Did she say anything about the incident?"

He wasn't sure if he could speak freely with Beatrix present. Wouldn't it sound strange if he told him that he had punished her for 'disobeying', like a servant?

"Please, did she say anything at all?" Kevin repeated.

Cautiously he answered, "She said it happened because she didn't listen to you."

"Correct. I shouldn't have left it lying around the house. It was a mistake on my part. I should have just talked to her."

Beatrix didn't speak, she just listened intently and sipped her tea.

"Maybe you should tell her," Vandal suggested.

"I probably should." His eyes flicked around the room very quickly and then settled on Beatrix. "Therese and Jeanette both agreed that it would be best to let the two of you know that you may talk about any matters that regard both of your work freely."

Vandal raised an eyebrow in question.

"Ah, I see." Kevin spoke deflated. He reached out for Beatrix's arm.

"Please, don't touch me. I can feel you moving," she told him. She held out the cup to Vandal to take it from her.

He did.

As Kevin moved his hand closer, she suddenly got up to get out of his reach. He as well, rose from the floor. "What are you gonna do about it? You can't see."

"Hey, leave her alone!" Vandal hissed, forgetting for a moment that who he was speaking to was far more powerful than him. He put down the cup next to the couch.

Kevin ignored him and took a step towards her.

"Fuck off," Beatrix hissed. "I am warning you. If you touch me I'll break both your arms."

He started laughing. "I guess nobody told you who I am, or you wouldn't be talking like that."

"You're wrong. You could be the Archbishop or the Prince and I would still be talking to you like that! I don't care that you're a vampire." Her hands flew up and covered her mouth in shock. "Oh shit."

So she knew who she was truly working for. "Are you a ghoul?" Vandal asked, getting up as well.

"Vandal, please stop asking questions." Now she sounded panicked.

Kevin smirked, "You don't want them to find out."

She shivered. "Please don't tell Jeanette, or Therese."

"You don't work for a pack of Shovelheads, right?" Kevin spoke in a low voice.

"No!"

"I'm just making sure. You're from the Zantosa family?" Kevin questioned.

Vandal had no idea what they were talking about. The only thing he knew was that Sabbat kindred were often referred to as Shovelheads. But she was definitely human.

"I'm a Revenant, Vandal," Beatrix told him, as if she'd read his mind. "I'm a ghoul that produces their own vampiric vitae. I age at a quarter of the rate of a normal human." She turned her attention back to Kevin. "I am. And I'm lucky we are ignored."

"If you weren't, you wouldn't be here…"

"Absolutely, yes."

Kevin changed his stance. He looked like he was about to jump Beatrix. "Let's see if you were bluffing."

Vandal had no time to react. Kevin grabbed her shoulders and jerked her towards him. Beatrix brought both her underarms down on Kevin's elbows with incredible speed and there was a loud crack as both of them broke and Kevin hissed sparply. He was forced to let go of her again. It took a few seconds until his arms had healed.

"I told you," Beatrix spoke matter of factly.

Kevin looked impressed. "You've had a lot of time to train, hadn't you?"

"I did." She walked past Kevin to Vandal. "You ok?"

"Yes," Vandal nodded. He wasn't phased by the sound or sight of broken bones. What had phased him, was the speed and strength with which she had acted and how accurate her aim had been without sight.

Kevin, now completely recovered, spoke again. "I will leave the two of you now that I've delivered my message and have seen what I came here for. Thank you, Beatrix. Don't worry. I will not speak about who you 'really' are with the sisters. Your secret's safe with me." He bowed. "Have a good night." He left Vandal and her standing where they were.

The door fell shut and to Vandal it sounded as loud as a gunshot. The voices were back, whispering in the back of his head.

Beatrix moved towards the sofa again and got her cup with a frown on her face. "Well that's cold now, thanks to Kevin." She poured it out in the kitchen sink, came back and flopped onto the couch like a sandbag.

Vandal came over to her. She looked exhausted. He sat as well.

"Who are you drinking from?" she asked him. "Therese?"

"Yes, from the Queen Bitch herself."

A laugh escaped her. "Oh, don't let her hear that."

"I won't. So, I was right. You were hiding something, and this is what it was. What happens if you drink vampire blood? Are you unaffected?" Therese hadn't told him about Revenant's. Maybe she didn't know about them?

"It affects me the same way it does you. I stop aging, and if I drink 3 times I'm completely bound to whoever I drank from," she sighs.

A thought crossed his mind. "Are you really 'just' a dancer or has Jeanette running you errands too?"

"Well, since I'm now allowed to talk about it I can tell you what we talked about earlier. Kevin was right. They don't know what I am. They think I'm an unsuspecting human. But from Jeanette's questioning tonight, I think she means to blood bind me. And I don't know what to make of that yet. For the extra work she offered me, I'm supposed to meet a guy called Knox during the day, who will give me something for Jeanette from a guy called Bertram."

He didn't recognize either of those names. "I hope that goes down well. Good luck."

"Why, thank you. I'm sure it will." He could hear she was glad that he hadn't offered help. Because she knew how to handle herself. Probably better than most people.

For a while longer, they sat and talked. Beatrix told him a lot of things about kindred and ghouls that Therese had conveniently failed to mention. They only decided to call it a night when Vandal noticed the sun was already rising on the horizon.

Beatrix brought him to the door. "Will you find your way back?" she asked.

It brought a smile on his face. "I will. Don't worry. See you soon."

"Talk to you soon," she chuckled. "Sleep well."

"You too."

The door closed behind him and he made his way back to his own apartment, just to go straight to bed.


End file.
